what the water gave (25th annual hunger games)
by radieux
Summary: Feel free to follow along "On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that they willingly caused the suffering of their own, tributes will be voted into the games by their districts. Thank you, and happy hunger games. May the odds be ever in your favor." The rebels. The psycho. The no-gooders. The drop-outs. The trained. The hated. The feared. Who are you? ENDED.
1. Promo

**~ Excerpt from the Reading of the card ~**

**"Welcome Capitol citizens and outer Panem! As you all know, or have heard of, this year will mark the 25th anniversary of the honorable pageant of courage, sacrifice and honor we all know, and will forever know as the hunger games. For this very special occasion, the capitol has included a twist of sorts to mark this exciting benchmark. This year, and on every 'quarter' to come, there will be an extra layer of intriguing gameplay to add to the typical games. This ceremony is now known and forever more as the reading of the card."**

**"On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that they willingly caused the suffering of their own, tributes will be voted into the games by their districts. Thank you, and happy hunger games. May the odds be ever in your favor." **

**- President Clare**

* * *

**POINT EARNING:**

**Later, you will be able to purchase things with points. A signed review gets one point. (if you're a submitter who's tribute(s) are still alive, they automatically go into your account) (if you're a submitter who's tribute(s) are dead, or a non-submitter, you must place the name of the tribute you want to give your point to in the review NOT AVAILABLE UNTIL THE INTERVIEWS). All of this will be explained later as well.**

**Anyway, you can earn +1 points for every male you submit, for every unique arena idea, and if it's a non-career tribute (3,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12). So the absolute maximum amount of points you could earn would be 6 points, if you had two non-career males with unique ideas accepted.**

**Start away! This will be half of a first-come first-serve, but your tribute also has to be well-filled out. I'm not going to wait a few days and see what comes in. You should get a "accepted" or "not (why)" within two or three hours.**

**I will post a couple update chapters, but the most recent tribute list is on my profile. Please check there before submitting a tribute. **

**Thanks!**  
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	2. Final List of Tributes

**It only took one day (less than 24 hours!) for all the spots to fill up! Wow! **

**Here is the FINAL list. Sorry for those that didn't get in!**

* * *

DISTRICT 1:

F: Amber Montoya

M: Lucas Esmeralda Boone

DISTRICT 2:

F: Lucy Forscythe

M: Heathcliffe Serutobi

DISTRICT 3:

F: Bree Shankles

M: Benedict Wirespark

DISTRICT 4:

F: River Seanide

M: Rhyland Bravo

DISTRICT 5:

F: Kimberly Merril

M: Atlanshi Bleumoon

DISTRICT 6:

F: Mercedes Jones

M: Ronald Key

DISTRICT 7:

F: Feniah Ash

M: Sammy Kohler

DISTRICT 8:

F: Khaleesi Daren

M: Fred "Chubbs" Jenkins

DISTRICT 9:

F: Siren Wave

M: Tadese Fern

DISTRICT 10:

F: Irina Morgan

M: Jayce Vicier

DISTRICT 11:

F: Celri Asclepius

M: Irvine Donald

DISTRICT 12:

F: Britt Montx

M: Nick Westway

**Reapings will start soon. I think it's just going to be a long chapter with POV's from everyone, to make it fair. **

**sp**


	3. Reapings (1-6)

**3.**

**THE REAPINGS**

**(District 1-6)**

In District 1, the reapings were normally an excuse for festivity. After District 2, 1 had the more victors than most of the outlying districts _combined_. But today had an air of grimness. A few people had stepped up in the last few weeks to decide who was going in. At first, everyone had assumed they would just go ahead and vote the best seniors from their brand-new renown-training center. But then, someone had breached the idea of disposing. Disposing the district of vile, un-liked, injured children that no one wanted to look at.

The day before, only about ten thousand people had placed Amber Montoya's name down on the ballot. But, in a district of twenty-five thousand, it was enough. This girl had been promoted by dozens of leaders, and many agreed. She wasn't crippled, or even vile to look at, but many considered her almost… crazy. Teens her age had agreed whole-heartedly. She was a follower. A creep. And the worst of all, she had _murdered_ her brother in cold blood when she was only nine. The horror. Of course, that was disputed, as it _could_ have been an accident, but it was just another nice excuse for getting rid of her.

The other tribute they had selected had been less popular. People felt bad for Lucas Boone. The trained teen boys his age had teased him for decades, and it had only gotten worse when he was in the accident that confined him to a wheelchair. A cripple. One of the only in the district. And for this reason, he had to go for a few. Looking at him only made them sick.

Few looked away when Amber was called to the stage, instead fascinated by the way her expression changed within seconds from upset to boastful. When Missoni Burn, the district escort offered her the microphone, she erupted into a long, finger-tapping, annoying speech about how she'd try hard to come back to District 1. On the other hand, people looked down in shame when Lucas's name was called, him promptly bursting into tears.

Maybe if they looked at the floor long enough, they'd both be gone. Hopefully never to return.

* * *

"District 2! Your choice for your female representative this year is Lucy Forsythe. Congratulations, Lucy!" District two's representative babbled.

Honestly, Lucy could never remember her name, but who cared? She was going into the games, just like her brother had the year before. A smile bloomed across her features and she had to restrain herself from jogging up to the stage.

"Lucy, would you like to say any words of thanks to your district?"

"Yes!" Lucy spoke eagerly, and a squeal of feedback echoed across the square. Many people frowned uncomfortably, but she forged on, wanting to remember exactly what she wanted to say. "Thank you all for this great honor. I'm assuming most of you know me from the training center, or possibly from my dad." She skimmed over the topic of her brother, wanting to keep the attention planted firmly on her. "I will make it back to district two. I promise." She bounced back over to the middle of the stage, realizing that she'd almost unconsciously made it to the top of the stage.

With that, the escort took the microphone away from Lucy, and she stood with hands clasped, waiting for her male counterpart to be called. Lucy tried not to mess with her blonde curls, knowing that they had to still be in their perfect half-tied back style.

"Your choice for your _male_ representative this year is Heathcliffe Sarutobi!"

She knew this name. Was it from the training center? It had to be. When the tall boy strode into view, shock showing slightly on his chiseled features, she remembered. This was the brother of Soren, the boy who had won the games two years ago. A look of unhappiness crossed over Lucy's features momentarily. This boy would surely outshine her in his speech.

To her astonishment, when the escort offered him the microphone, he turned her down. Lucy stared at him like he had horns. Who wouldn't want to give a speech of thanks to their district? Heathcliffe, apparently.

* * *

In the eyes of an unattached single orphanage-manager, the reapings were incredibly useless. A name called, they go up to the stage, they never return; it repeated every year. At the moment, she had a total of fifteen children she "cared" for in the reaping pool, and Golly Perpas could care less if any of them got called up. She had actually voted for one of her own, a quite annoying girl named Bree Shankles, who had been in Golly's custody since she was a baby.

Bree had gotten Golly into quite a lot of trouble lately, having to explain why bits of food had been stolen from nearby stores. It had opened up questions about how much food the orphanage was providing from the district's human resources department, and Golly had been forced to actually start serving three meals a day, instead of just lunch. If the girl was voted out of the district, the manager would not mind at all.

"Bree Shankles!" Olla, the district escort called not two seconds later. Golly Perpas fought the smile that was trying to form on her face, because most likely the cameras were on her as well, as the guardian of the girl. Golly watched with mental satisfaction as the devious brunette mouse of a girl walked up to join the boy on the stage (was it Benjamin? Ben? Whatever.). Neither of them were going to be missed, Golly was sure.

"District three, I give you your tributes for the twenty-fifth annual hunger games! Bree Shankles and Benedict Wirespark!"

* * *

Only seconds after her name had been called, River Seanide was up on the stage, staring out at the people of her district in shock. They had voted her into the games. Without a choice in the matter. Just like-

River closed her eyes and shook for a few seconds, trying desperately to fend off the barrage of images flooding into her mind. Her brother had stood on this very same stage three years ago, on the other side. River shook her head, trying to stop the next few from coming. His interview. The bloodbath. The tributes he'd killed. And finally, when a vengeful ally had murdered him. Would the same path of events follow her throughout the games? Would she forever be haunted by his games? How could the people of her district be so cruel?

"And, let's see, for our male tribute, you voted for Rhyland Bravo!" Stram Perker, the capitol citizen that would escort them to the games, called. "Rhyland, come on up!"

River stared in shock as Rhyland made his way up to the stage. He was one of the most sought-after boys in the grade above her in school. He trained, he was beyond beautiful, he was mysterious; all of the girls loved him. Why would they volunteer him into the games? Because they thought he would win?

Did they think she could win? No, surely. They just wanted to get rid of her, like the hunger games did to her brother.

* * *

In District 5, the voting had been decided weeks beforehand. A couple people had polled who the most un-liked children were, and then narrowed it down to two people. They had distributed the voting choices to every single person, save for two families. People had gone along with it without much argument, because this way, their own sons and daughters were safe from the reaping for one more year.

It was no surprise to anyone that Kimberly Merril and Atlanshi Bleumoon were called. The drug addict and the lost-in-his-own world loner. Neither associated with others, both had severely un-liked parents, and both would hardly be missed by anyone.

What was unbeknownst to most was that Kimberly was genuinely happy to be called. She avoided the eyes of her father as she took the stage, and shook hands with Atlanshi. Kimberly had no idea who the boy was, she didn't remember names well, but she knew that he was a loner by choice. Antisocial like her. If she was capable of trust, he might not be a bad ally. But the games were meant to play alone, in her mind. Allies only made it complicated, and Kimberly hated complicated. The only way to escape from complicated situation were with her painkillers, and unless the games took on a new set of game makers, they were not going to be provided in the volume she needed. But it wasn't like she was going to get out anyway, so why hope?

* * *

Ronald Key was late to the reaping. This was not good. Of course, he wouldn't be called, but the peacekeepers in his district were notoriously strict, and would punish him if he wasn't there in time for the reaping. He practically ran to the peacekeeper doing the blood drawing, and ducked under the roped off 15-year-old section. He sighed, thankful to see that the only the female had been chosen so far. Ron looked up to see who was up on the stage and raised his eyebrows. He knew Mercedes Jones, she was in his class at school. Sure, she was annoying, but that annoying? Her frequent jokes had no class, but that wasn't enough to vote her into the games, was it? People were cruel, he decided, and sat back to watch who the male was.

He, personally, was hoping for this kid named Soul, who had tormented him along with his best friend, Chase. He was 18, and this was his last year to get called. Ron knew almost all of the boys in his year had said they voted for him.

"And for the boys!" Ron turned his attention back up to the stage. "You, district 6, voted for Ronald Key to be your male representative?"

What? She had to be kidding, Ron decided, his face turning red. Who would vote for him? He was friendly at school! He was nice! Only his family knew the don't-care-everything-sucks personality he had at home!

Eventually, he realized her would have to go up to the stage or risk being escorted by the peacekeepers, he ducked out from his roped section and headed towards the stage. Mercedes looked as confused as he felt about her. They were both light-hearted individuals at school. Could people have seen through both of their acts?

**ooooooo**

**1/2 of the reapings are done! Which district was your favorite this time around? Which tribute? **

**Remember, submitters, each (signed) review counts as a point! I recommend stacking up your points early, because you'll need them routinely during the games. **

**radieux**

**(are you excited about districts 7-12? leave me a review! they motivate me :)**


	4. Reapings (7-12)

4.

THE REAPINGS

(District 7-12)

Contrary to other districts, their voting had been out in the open. No one knows quite how the results got leaked before the actual reaping, but both of the tributes were doubly aware of their status with the district at about seven the previous night.

Also contrary to the other districts, district seven had two different approaches when it came to tribute selection. One, their male choice, had been mainly borne out of general dislike and unease. Sammy Kohler had never been a favorite between anyone. His depression seemed almost contagious, and the mere look on his face was enough to slight most in a way they can't explain. This almost-undead expressionless feel followed him all the way up to the stage. Most thought he would have acted the same even if he hadn't known his fate.

On the other hand, the district had also put one of their absolute best axe throwers up on the stage as well. Feniah Ash, the daughter of the mayor, had been slotted for taking over the job when her dad retired, but also had shown an extreme talent with the district weapon. Many believed that she was quite capable of winning, and they placed her with pride. It came to a bit of a shock for most that she didn't smile when her name was called. She didn't show surprise, of course, but she had a _chance_.

A _chance_.

* * *

In district eight, the voting had been all over the place. No one had taken control of the matter until days before, and people had mainly just assumed they would vote for whomever their children did. One event had changed their minds. Another brutal beating of a man accused of logging extra plant-hours that he did not complete stirred up public dismay and anger to new extremes. Gerald Daren, the inconsiderate bastard of a head-peacekeeper had done it again. It had only taken a couple hours for the whispers to start. A plan had formed at the mouth of the man's family, and they spread the word that there was a perfect way to pay back the evil man. To elect his daughter.

As Khaleesi Daren took the stage, many people spat on the ground. It was a district custom, which meant disgust. It was the strongest public show that they could manage, because the circle was lined with dozens, if not hundreds of peacekeepers waiting for one mistake. Khaleesi truly was a beautiful girl, with strawberry blonde hair and narrow green eyes, but what her father had done was inexcusable. Now he would be forced to feel like the rest of them.

The next tribute up to the stage was comic relief. Many younger kids giggled as Fred Jenkins waddled by, the ones who didn't quite understand what the hunger games really were. A few older children, the ones eligible for reaping, murmured "Chubbs" as he walked by, eliciting giggles from their section. No one would be sad to see poor, _nice_ old Fred go. He was far from poor, even farther from nice, and the largest person in the entire district. Many poor children would look at him in jealousy, knowing that he never missed a meal from his home. Not only was he fat and ugly, but he would also gather with his cronies and torment children. He would tie a loaf of perfectly good bread (he ate two each night by himself) to an invisible cord and they would sit on the roofs in the poor part of town until a kid happened by and attempted to pick up the bread. Then, he would jolt it up into the sky. Pure cruelty.

This time around, District Eight was out for revenge. And they would surely get it.

* * *

Tadase Fern strode up onto the stage and raised his eyebrows at Viola, the district escort.

"Why, aren't you a pretty thing?" He cooed, placing a hand on her arm. "I can't wait to get to know you better. We'll be spending quite a lot of time together, won't we?"

Viola stared at him uncomfortably until he removed his hand. The kid wasn't a looker, not even close. He was a grade-A creep.

_I bet that's why he got picked_, Viola concluded, sighing and crossing over to the girls reaping ball. They were all for show, of course, there was only one slip in the bowl. She caught it between her fingers easily and read the name out in a clear voice.

"Siren Wave!"

Viola looked on in shock as the female representative strode up to the stage with nearly as much swagger as Tadase did. What was with this district? They were supposed to fear for their lives! She had watched the other reapings on the train, it seemed like most of them were using the games as a way to clear their district of filth. And rightly they should. Sure, Tadese seemed like filth, but he was confident, and so was this silent, elusive redhead standing next to her. What the hell was going on?

* * *

In the capitol, the reapings were usually quite the bore after they bypassed district seven. But these games were quite different. All of these tributes were so weird, so odd, so strange, that no capitol citizen could turn away from their set. They had expected strong, of course, the ones that would play a good game, but these were interesting. And nothing could beat good TV.

Elena Paxtor watched as the District 10 tributes were called up. The first up, Irina Morgan seemed pretty and nice, and Elena wondered if she had been picked for her skills. She wasn't too domineering, but well built, and Elena smiled. She seemed alright. The boy, also, didn't seem too odd, Jayce Vicier. But as the camera panned to the district, angry, spiteful faces glared up at the stage. At that moment, a commentator commented on the decrease in population this year.

Had he killed people? Like, murdered? There's no way, Elena reasoned. He had to just be hated in another way. Or maybe he had, an accident, perhaps? It would surely be revealed later in the games.

* * *

Celri Asclepius was not happy to take the stage next to Irvine Donald. He was a known psychopath, and a displeased look took hold of her features as she looked down at the crowd who had voted her onto a stage with this insane boy.

Was being a runaway reason enough for this? Honestly? How cruel could people be? Were they just picking her because they didn't want to be picked? How many people voted for her? This was a big district, not everyone had to be able to even know her. It had to be the people in her immediate area, unless they had spread the word to vote for the freak as well.

"Celri, and Irvine! Your tributes for the 25th hunger games!" The escort crowed. Celri smiled, even in the darkness of the situation, when the lady chose to lift her hand, and leave Irvine alone, who seemed to be salivating uncontrollably. Was this the common in each of the other districts as well? The insane?

* * *

Faye Trinket straightened her black dress for the fifth time, running through her notecards for the tenth. It was her first year doing the reaping, and it had to be perfect. Even on her first trip to district 12, she could tell it was a place she never ever wanted to come back to. The place was depressing to say the least.

Ten minutes later, she was standing in front of the crowd of six thousand (what a small district), trying not to wrinkle her nose from the soot.

"Let's begin!" Faye spoke uneasily. "With your chosen female tribute. It's Brittany Montx."

"Ha!" A girl cried out in the crowd. Was it Brittany? No, it was a blonde girl, a rich one, probably. "Take that, dyke."

Another girl, one with black hair and green eyes, was pushed out of a section, the fourteen year old one, and landed on the floor. She picked herself up slowly, embarrassment showing on her face.

"Maybe there'll be some hot girls in the arena for you to pick up, lesbo." Another girl called, but Faye couldn't identify her. A blush rose on the escort's face. She didn't have a notecard for this. To cover her confusion, she immediately crossed to the boys bowl and pulled out the slip.

Nick Westway, a tall dark silent type, took his spot without much ruckus. Thank god. She'd already had enough for the day.

"Bye Dykey!" A third girl howled at their retreating forms. "Miss you! Not!"

* * *

**Anyway, after this chapter, the POV will most likely be mainly first person. Just letting you know. **

**Your favorite tribute this time?**

**sp**


	5. Goodbyes

**5.**

**GOODBYES**

**(randomly generated POV's)**

**IRINA MORGAN, DISTRICT 10 FEMALE TRIBUTE (Kiliflower)**

**Age: 17**

As I'm led into our district's Justice Building, I keep the calm and collected look planted clearly on my face. I manage a wave at the cameras that are hovering above me, but these aren't the important ones. There will be more, much more, when I'm lead out of here and onto the train. This is why I must not get worked up. I must stay clear faced for my goodbyes.

I'm put up in a dark blue room, with a nice leather couch. Leather is almost non-existent in our district, even though hide tanning is one of our biggest exports. It's too expensive, and the citizens in the capitol like it far too much. I've wondered what tanning the skins is like. In my family's butcher shop, we kill the cows and other livestock, but we always send the cow skins off for a small amount of money every week or so.

About two minutes later, I'm torn out of my thoughts by the entrance of my family. For this, I am grateful. I never much liked being left to my own thoughts. I enjoy the company of others. A look of surprise crosses my face as I see that only two of my family members have entered the room. It's Kaleb, my brother, and my mom.

"Where's dad?" I stand up immediately, because why try to hide it? He's the one I want to see the most.

"We figured that we could get more time to see you spread out like this." My mother says shyly, as she sits on the edge of my couch. "They said an hour, so we figured fifteen with us, fifteen with your father, fifteen with Jeromy," she mentions the name of my best friend, "and then possibly fifteen with other friends."

"Alright." I say, and then wait for someone to begin talking. It's true that I've never really felt a good connection with anyone but my father. He's who I went to about my bullying problems in early school, and the one who eventually suggested that I beat some sense into them. Let's just say that mother wasn't too pleased when I came home with a citation and a note describing the damage I had done to two little boys' faces.

Sometimes, I feel like my mother and I just don't connect, but still, I find comfort in her arms as we sit in silence. It might be the last time I ever get to see her.

* * *

**KIMBERLY MERRIL, DISTRICT 5 FEMALE TRIBUTE (catching fireflies)**

**Age: 16**

It's a quiet hour for me. No one comes to visit, and for that, I am grateful. There is no one that cares enough about me to come, especially my father. If he even showed up, I could guarantee that it would only be to get one last beating in before I'm gone forever. He hates me. Or, more accurately, he hates my mother, who I'm apparently a dead ringer for. Not that I would know.

Thankfully, the peacekeepers choose to leave me alone, and I can shakily pull the mint tin out from under my dress. I turn towards the window and open the squeaky container. Inside, two different toned pills rest, ten of each, or twenty total. Before the reaping, I stole all of my father's stash. Thankfully, I'm never coming back, or else he would make sure that I would die in the most painful way possible.

All I can hope for is that he doesn't figure out the painkillers are gone until it's too late for him to come and visit me. Most likely, he took a few before I grabbed the rest, and he's still in his "happy fog" as he likes to put it. I never get beaten during one of his "happy fogs." It's the few hours a day that I can count on moving around our hovel of a house without fear of injury.

When I take his drugs, it's more of an escape. They don't make me feel happy. I just dull my thoughts with them, along with pain. When I can feel my father getting angry, I make sure to take a pill, because his strikes don't hurt as much when my senses are dull. It also helps me not think of the knives I have stored under my dresser. I've always promised myself that someday, I will kill the bastard. No one would miss him. But now, I'll never have the chance.

What would happen if I took all of these? Just, dropped dead, right here? What would they do? Would they replace me with the next highest voted? And that thought, right there, makes me shut the metal tin and tuck it back into the pocket of my dress. Because, no matter how much of the do-no-good druggie persona people think I am, I do have a heart. And I would never sentence anyone else to the hell that I'm going to surely experience. I will not take the easy way out.

* * *

**BRITT MONTX, DISTRICT 12 FEMALE TRIBUTE (AthenaGal01)**

**Age: 14**

For a total of forty-five minutes, no one comes into my room to wish me off. My parents, I don't know what to say, maybe they don't want to see me again. Just make a clean break. Ha! Like either of them could muster the concentration to string that many words together. My mother, she's probably drunk. I would bet money, if I had any. My dad, I don't even know what he's doing. I never know.

When the peacekeeper enters my room and says there are a few friends here to visit with me, I almost laugh in his face. I have no friends. Can't he see that? Didn't he watch the reaping?

Through the crack in the door behind him, I see a flash of blonde hair. My throat closes up almost immediately. Then, I see a flash of strawberry blonde hair. It gets worse. Sarah's here.

I look up at the peacekeeper and force myself to speak.

"I would like to remain by myself, if that's alright." As I say the last word, a flash of a green eye distracts me, so much like my own, but brighter. It's definitely Sarah. Best friend of Rachel, my tormenter. I can't do this. I know she doesn't feel the same way about me. I don't even know her. _Stay strong._

"If that's what you wish."

* * *

**TADASE FERN, DISTRICT 9 MALE TRIBUTE (charliesunshine)**

**Age: 18**

"I desperately want to feel sorry for you." My mother spits from above me, cradled by my father. "But I can't. You've brought this down on yourself, you… you rape-r!"

"Calla." My father says carefully, but I can see it in his eyes as well. He's disappointed. Whatever. It's not like my victims didn't like it.

"You've brought shame down on the Fern family." Calla adds, glaring down at me.

"I'm not a rapist, ma." I say smoothly. "I just am, very _promiscuous_."

"Lying is a sin." That's the goodbye I get as my parents storm out of the room, a good five minutes before they would have been forced too. Again; whatever. Good riddance. I don't regret anything I've done. It's fun to get girls, and it's fun to chase them throughout alleys and then to dominate them. I don't regret that I'm here.

I know exactly what landed me here too. Last week, I got the mayor's daughter. She's the prettiest girl in town, and by golly she was fun. But I'm sure she squealed, and that's why people voted me in. Probably some of my other girls told as well. Who cares? There's sure to be hottie tributes, a couple kiss-ass rebel ones, perhaps. Maybe I won't even have to force them.

"Tadase Fern, your next visitor." This makes me sit up in interest. Who's here to visit me? I look towards the door eagerly as a girl walks in. The mayor's daughter! She's come to visit me!

"Hey Marcie." I lower my eyelids, smiling seductively. She must have missed me. "Why're you here? Ready for another go?"

"Fuck off." The blonde says automatically, and I smile. She's still feisty. I like that. "Nobody likes you."

"Really? I'd beg to differ." I stand, moving close to her. Her lip curls in disgust.

"Go to hell. I hope you die. Scratch that, I know you'll die."

"Come on, Marcie. I see why you've come now." I grab her wrist, and start pulling her behind the couch. "You want to give me a goodbye present."

"No." Marcie argues, trying to pull away from me, but I'm too strong. "Get off!"

"Don't be like that." I push her gently down to the floor. "Give me a good time."

Two seconds later, I'm reeling back, eyes and throat on fire. Marcie has pepper spray; I see that now. After a squirt in each eye, and one in the mouth; I'm on the floor. I can't breath.

"Serves you right, bastard." I can't see her go, but I can hear every single footstep. It's the first time one of my victims has fought back.

* * *

**RIVER SEANIDE, DISTRICT 4 FEMALE TRIBUTE (katnissandpeetaforever12)**

**Age: 15**

I can't say I expected no one to show up for my allotted session for goodbyes. I expected at least my father to show up, to give me the same speech he gave to Ky, my brother. But he doesn't show, and my face grows longer with each passing second. After the half hour mark, the peacekeeper leaves his post at the door. I think he feels sorry for me.

I didn't expect any friends, I have none, but it would have been nice for someone to come. Even someone who didn't know me would be fine. Just someone that I could talk to.

Five minutes later, a soft awkward sound makes me lift my head towards the doorway. There the peacekeeper from before stands, dressed in the silly white t-shirt and the shorts. His summer uniform. In his tanned hand, he holds out a pink-frosted donut. It's for me, his expression states.

"Thank you." I get up from my couch and retrieve the pastry. He nods.

I stare at the donut for a while before I start eating it. It's the first time I've had sugar in years. Father doesn't like me eating anything but straight protein and vegetables. But it's more than sugar; it's a sign of friendship. From a peacekeeper.

Or is it a sign of pity?

* * *

**So what did you think? Who was your favorite POV out of these five? **

**So with this use of random POV's, the website I use cycles through everyone before it resets to all twenty-four. Everyone will get a turn!**

**sp**


	6. Train (part one)

**6.**

**TRAIN**

**(part one)**

**BREE SHANKLES, DISTRICT 3 FEMALE TRIBUTE (Lighty 7)**

**Age: 12**

I try to keep an even, sheltered look on my face on my face as I'm led out of my district's silver Justice Building. Since the train station is merely a block away, we, meaning myself, Olla (the escort) and Benedict, walk. I wish we were given a moment in a car to collect ourselves. I'm twelve, I deserve to feel afraid, but I can't show it to the cameras. Not now. I can't act weak in the presence of another tribute.

Even though Benedict is five years older than me, he, at the most, is four inches taller than me. Here in district three, we don't grow to be that tall. Maybe it has something to do with the cramped apartment living that we're all subjected to. Being from the orphanage, mine were even worse. I shared it with five girls, all younger than me, with only two queen beds. None liked my suggestion of switching out sleeping on the floor; so on a bad night, I was crammed into a bed with two other warm, usually dirty bodies. Maybe there could be a benefit to going to the capitol: good sleeping situations.

It takes about five minutes to walk the block, thanks to the darting hover-cameras, the real-person paparazzi, and the clueless crowd still making their way back to their homes. I don't like them. I never did, but now that they've voted me in, I really don't like them. Even though I hardly have a chance regardless, I vow now to _not_ win, so they won't get any extra food. They don't deserve it.

* * *

**NICK WESTWAY, DISTRICT 12 MALE TRIBUTE (Mrs. Cato)**

**Age: 15**

"Go clean yourself up." Jallie snaps at me, and I jump. I hate this woman already. Since district 12 has no victors thus far to speak of, the capitol provides us with a pair of "games coaches" to compensate for the lack of advice-givers. I'd rather be on my own, truthfully. "You're covered in soot."

"Gee, wonder why?" I snarl under my breath, and I see her gearing up for a response. I turn around the corner though, before she can respond back to me. I really hope she isn't the one assigned to me. I'd much rather have Loave, who is male and much more laid-back.

Once I'm in my own quarters, I slide off my khaki reaping pants and my white crewneck. It's true, they are covered in coal dust, but I hardly mind. As an afterthought, I pick up both of the articles of clothing and shake them over my bed, the carpet, and the marble in the bathroom. The fine black dust frees itself from the shirt and pants, leaving a layer of the matter all over the white carpet and bedding. Feels more like home already. Now, if only I could actually be home.

**RONALD KEY, DISTRICT 6 MALE (IronLOTRgurl)**

**Age: 15**

The minute I step onto the train, it starts moving. I'm thrown off balance, careening into a framed picture of President Clare. It crashes to the ground, the glass shattering into a million pieces. I stop, watching the glass rip the thin picture to shreds, and wonder if this is somehow an omen. But I can't figure out how this connects to me, so I keep moving down the hallway, headed for the smell of food. Inside, our mentor waits. I can never remember his name, but I do remember his games. Brutal.

"Enjoy!" He beckons to the food, and I take a seat next to Mercedes without argument. The food. It's… unbelievable. It smells so good, and there's such a great bounty of it! I hardly hesitate to dig in, which Mercedes has done already.

First, I take four of small, mini pie-like baked tarts. It seems excessive, but these are the hunger games, and who am I to turn away food?

"Quiches." Our mentor nods at my first choice. "Very good. Egg-tart things. You'll like em."

I try out his claim, and find it completely positive. They're delicious. I devour the quiches, and then when they're gone I go back for a different delicacy. It's not until three plates later that I sit back and look around the table. The mentor has left the table, to who knows where, and only our escort and Mercedes remain. Her dark hair has fell around her plate like a shield, as she slurps chicken soup. The escort looks on in horror, but it doesn't seem like Mercedes minds. Interesting girl.

* * *

**CELRI ASCLEPIUS, DISTRICT 11 FEMALE (Ashbringer36)**

**Age: 16**

After the early dinner, all I truly want to do is sleep. I'm not used to this rich food, and my stomach feels overloaded. Even the chair I'm in, padded with supple leather, makes me feel sleepy. If I tried, I probably could easily fall asleep in this chair.

"Who wants to watch the reapings?" Corvas, our escort trills. I think she's died her hair. Last year it was an onyx-like black. Now it's brown, near my shade. I like this color better on her.

"I would like to." Irvine says loudly. He seems to have recovered from his salivating stage, and now is walking around the train car, over and over and over. He seems to have access to hair dye as well, from who knows where, because nobody's hair is that shade of navy-blue in my district. One of the scariest things about him, in my opinion, is that he's tall. Really tall. Like, maybe a foot taller than me. "Not."

"Irvine." Corvas says gently. "It's usually protocol for the tributes to watch the reaping-"

"Well." His voice takes on a maniacal note. "That's one thing you'll have to learn about me. I'm not a protocol-type of guy."

We all stop and stare at the boy, shocked. Flint and Maya, our replacement mentors, clear their throats, uncomfortable. Since they live in the capitol, they have never been exposed to the insaneness that is Irvine Donald.

Poor them.

* * *

**JAYCE VICIER, DISTRICT 10 MALE TRIBUTE (mkraemz)**

**Age: 14**

My experiments. That's what landed me in here, I would bet a hundred cows on it. I can tell our mentor, Kotra, and our escort, Escala, are confused why either Irina or I are in the games. As we watch the recap, seeing the broken bodies and the hate-filled glances, it becomes clear that almost all of the districts are using this as a "cleansing" for the grime of their district.

District one is interesting, because for the first time since the first games, the chosen boy bursts into tears. He's in a wheelchair, which makes my eyes tug a little. Who in their right mind would send a crippled boy into the games? District two seems a little boring; other the normal craziness of the career-tributes, nothing is interesting. The next few tributes that stand out in my mind are the guy from district four, what's his name, Rhyland? There's something I don't trust in his dark look. After that, it's the girl from eight, who gets hate glares from practically everyone in the district. Of course, the boy from that district was pure comic relief, being about two hundred pounds and squat as hell. The boy from nine seems like a creep, along with the boy from eleven. The latter seems much more imposing, however.

Soon enough, the program is over, and the trumpets are blaring. It's sure to be an interesting games to come.

* * *

**More to come! So this is one half of the train section. Who's POV was your favorite this time?**

**I'm thinking about doing third person for the prep/chariot rides. What do you think?**

**sp**


	7. Train (part two)

**next chapter: chariots!**

**7.**

**TRAIN**

**(part two)**

**RHYLAND BRAVO, DISTRICT 4 MALE TRIBUTE (Ailes Du Neige)**

**Age: 17**

As it draws closer and closer to ten-thirty, lights out, my actions start blurring. My normal train of thought veers down a different road, and I start thinking about what would happen if they didn't get the instructions to tie me up at night. First, I think, I'll start with the annoyingly perky Stram Perker, escort extraordinaire. He's a frequent topic I like to discuss at night with my helpers. His perky smile irritates me to no end, along with his frighteningly clean g terry-cloth suits.

It brings a frown to my face when Stram announces that I will be escorted to my room with two capitol assistants. Two go off with River, my district partner, as well, but I suspect it's all for show. I grudgingly allow myself to be chained to my bed in the usual way. I must have missed the hooks and hoops when I came in here earlier, or perhaps they switched my room.

Not soon after the attendants leave the room, the clock in my room gleams twelve. This announces the arrival of the helpers. They never stay for long, three hours at most, but we certainly make the best of the time we have together.

"Hunger games, eh?" Eppa speaks softly. I think she's about to cry. She always was the sensitive one.

"Sorry about Eppa." Cou mouths. I can see the annoyance in his dark eyes.

"Think of it this way. Our," Selene starts, but quickly corrects herself. "_Your_ wildest dreams are coming true. You've trained for this, Rhysie. A free for all!"

"Just imagine how _fun_ it will be." They all say in unison. And I know it deep in my heart: they speak the truth. The hunger games will be the time of my life.

* * *

**KHALEESI DAREN, DISTRICT 8 FEMALE (solacing)**

**Age: 16 **

It's a restless night of sleep for me. After seeing the faces of my competitors on the television, I can't hope but imagine whom I will kill… or who might kill me. With memory of the last eight or so Hunger Games stored in my mind, I know that practically my only chance at surviving is to join the career pack. Who will be in it this time around? I wholly suspect all the usual suspects of late, districts one and two. In the past two or three years, district four has been included as well.

So, based on assumptions, everyone from those districts will be included. Except for the district one cripple, surely. Would they even dare to accept me?

I'm quite good with my father's old blowgun. For why a peacekeeper would need a blowgun, I'm not sure. I found his weapon chest when I was eight, and the three-foot long tube always intrigued me. I practiced against the wall in his room when he wasn't home, which was often, and eventually I just stole it and played with it for sport. There aren't many small game mammals around district eight, but there are these nasty rats that no one likes. With even the small anti-accessorized one I owned, I could hit targets a good twenty-five yards away. To this date, no one has discovered why little dead rats have been found all around our apartment building, because I avoided using darts in favor of clay tablets that shattered on impact, killing the rat, but not leaving much else behind.

Will they have blowguns in the training center? They have to have them; otherwise my prospects of joining the careers are quite low. I'm physically fit, yes, but I haven't trained my entire life like they have.

* * *

**BENEDICT WIRESPARK, DISTRICT 3 MALE (Zephyrme)**

**Age: 17**

My escort wakes me up at exactly 5:30 the next morning.

"Up! Up! Up! We have a big day ahead of us, Benedict. Up and at them!" Olla trills, her fingers tapping on the door. "Breakfast is out out out!"

I begrudgingly rise out of my more-than-comfortable bed, and yawn. I'm tired. We got to bed early yesterday, but still. I don't report to work/school until ten in the mornings, and I've been robbed of a good three hours of my sleep.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I recall that today will be our prep day for the chariot ride later tonight. It won't be hard, surely, but it'll be irritating. Better power up.

In the ten minutes that it takes me to shower, the train slows to a gentle stop. There aren't any windows in the bathroom, and I'm not exactly sure how to lift the blinds in my room. I'll find out soon enough.

Despite the several trips back and forth, it takes three guesses for me to find the door that opens the dining cart. I'm not disappointed, however, in the spread of food that is laid out in front of me. It's not until my second plate that I remember that we've stopped and look out the window. We're facing another cart, actually another dining room. I recognize the brunette boy and the blonde girl now. District two.

We three stare at each other awkwardly, until a bulky form, probably a mentor, crosses the window frame and draws the shades. Well that was strange. I glance up at Olla for an explanation.

"We're already at the capitol, silly!" She knits her pink eyebrows together. "You must have learned about geography in school, right?"

"A little. District 3 is located in a place once called Nevada."

"So you're not that far from the capitol in the first place! It only took us about twelve hours to get here on the lowest speed."

"Are we getting off, then?"

"No!" Olla stares at me like I've grown horns. "We can't disembark until all district's trains arrive. It's thought of to be an unfair advantage if you get two or three more hours in the remake center!"

"Makes perfect sense." I say sourly, and go back to eating my food. Why the hell did she wake me up so early, then? I could still be asleep right now.

* * *

**FRED JENKINS, DISTRICT 8 MALE (Lighty 7)**

**Age: 13**

This food! So good! So much! I don't hesitate! I snatch one plate and heap a stack of pancakes onto it, smothering them in thick berry jams and a whole little can of whipped cream.

Before I return to the table, I get another plate and heap a good half of the bacon tray onto it.

"Are you going to eat all of that?" Preeti, our escort, gapes at my plate.

"And more!" I say joyfully, before I pick up a pancake and slap it into my mouth.

"He's not lying." Khaleesi, my annoying district partner quips. "He's a fat-ass."

"Language!" Preeti says softly, a look of outrage crossing her face. "Language isn't lady like!"

"Neither are you." Khaleesi shoots back, and I can't help but add in.

"Could you guys shut up? I'm trying to eat!"

* * *

**So the end was a little silly, but hey, Chubbs is a silly character. **

**Favorite POV this time?**

**sp**


	8. Chariots

**8.**

**CHARIOTS**

**(Capitol POV)**

**ELENA PAXTOR, FEMALE CAPITOL CITIZEN (radieux)**

**Age: 14**

"Ma, can I have nachos?" Pallor Paxtor, my annoying brat of a sister squeals next to me. It's her very first year of going to the Chariot rides, so of course she's about ten times worse than she usually is. I, of course, had the idea of hiring our usual babysitter to take her here and sit on the opposite side of the bleachers, but my dad told me it wasn't an option.

"No, Pallor. There aren't any nachos here." Right when Pallor is about to burst into tears, Mom pulls out a pack of brightly colored candies and stuffs them into her hands. Good. They're the kind that sticks to the roof of your mouth, so she'll be occupied for a good thirty minutes or so.

"Thanks mo-mie!" She howls, and then returns to her place next to me, sucking her new prizes with glee. Lucky me.

It's 7:15. The chariots should have started by now, but I have no way of absolutely knowing, because the horses travel about two miles, and we're sitting in the best seats, up on a balcony in sight of the stage where President Clare will give her speech. A faint sound of cheering finds it's way to my ears, and I squint, trying to see past the abrupt turn in the chariot road. Soon enough, snow white horses appear, preceding the arrival of District one by a few seconds.

I love their costumes, but that's not news. District one tends to be one of my favorites, costume and arena combined.

As the white-horn chariot comes into view, I nod appreciatively. I remember that the boy is crippled, so they've built a temporary chair out of the same material as the chariot and set it so he's as high as Amber, the girl. She seems to be wearing a skimpy no-straps leotard covered in diamonds, and when her cart passes by, I see she's wearing platform shoes. A crown is tucked into her blonde curls, and she waves jovially as she passes. The crippled boy is wearing a reflective suit and holds a scepter, similar to a king's. A bigger version of Amber's crown is pinned into his short blonde hair as well.

It's a short wait, maybe one or two minutes before I can make out the all stone-gray chariot come into view. These are also usually some of my favorites, but their costumes are relatively boring and male oriented. They both wear gray armor and carry fake weapons, except Lucy's armor has been cut out to reveal her flat stomach and long legs. Young males let out hoots as she travels by. She's sure to get sponsorship points for that.

District three is drawn by gray-speckled horses, and both Benedict and the mouse-looking girl wear full on mirrors, which confuses me at first, but I remember my full-length mirror has a three pressed on the very back. Never less, the costumes are pretty, and people take attention to them, if not as much as the two chariots before.

District four has brown horses, and radically different costumes. The handsome guy, Rhyland, wears a replica of what looks like a sailor suit, except his shirt is gone. People have been throwing roses at him and his abs, because the floor of his chariot is covered in them. I'm not quite sure what River is supposed to represent, but she's only wearing a bra top and short shorts, and is covered in light netting. People still applaud for her, however, and the chariot passes into the square, making way for District five and it's black and white splattered horses.

Power-plant workers. Boring. By the expression on the tributes faces, I'm sure their thoughts are along the lines of mine. How original. That's even worse than the three consecutive years the district seven tributes were dressed as trees. District six is much better, although a bit too contrived.

Each of the two tributes, I can't remember their names at the moment; wear skintight black suits with LED light-trains zooming across in unpredictable patterns. If that wasn't enough, smoke billows out of random pores on their suit, leaving a thick dark-grey cloud behind them. Well, it's interesting, at least.

District seven isn't trees, thank god, but they aren't too much better than District five. The girl, Feniah, wears a pair of thick burlap shorts, and a matching crop top that barely covers her chest. Dramatic makeup highlights her face, and she holds an axe. Sexy lumberjack? The boy, however, is just lumberjack. Facemask and all. What in the world were these stylists _thinking_? You can't even recognize the tributes!

Eight is dressed in sexier, skintight versions of peacekeeper uniforms, which looks good on Khaleesi but is almost comical on the fat boy. I don't even understand Nine's costume, but I guess it's hard to come up with a good costume for a food processing district/grain district. When they pass by closer, I realize they're dressed in a suit and a dress, respectively, covered in corn. It's not really a bad costume, I guess, and I'm pondering what I would do if I was the stylist for the district when the tributes seem to explode right before my eyes. There are cries of shock, and my eyes are blinded for a second, but then I realize that the tributes rolled through a concentration of several spotlights, and the corn popped right before our eyes! I wonder if that was planned. Either way, kudos to the stylists.

Pallor looks up in time to see the District ten chariot go by, and wrinkles her nose.

"Why are they dressed like cowboys?"

No one answers her question, and I continue watching the rest of the chariots go by. District eleven's costumes are made purely out of synthetic straw, and I guess they're pretty creative, with the long strapless gown for Celri, the girl and the shorts for the mad boy, Irvine. District twelve are coal miners, again, for the twenty-fifth time in a row. I guess no one can think of anything original. I feel bad for the girl, Britt, because she obviously looks uncomfortable in her no-more-than lingerie get up and the light-up hat. The boy from her district seems to be playing the crowd a little bit, waving and catching a couple roses from enthusiastic fans.

Even from just seeing them here, in costumes, I feel like this is certainly going to be an interesting games.

* * *

**I personally thought my popcorn idea was **

**What was your favorite costume? **

**Sp**


	9. Pre - Training

**POLL ON MY PROFILE PAGE! Go vote! **

* * *

**9. **

**PRE-TRAINING**

**(6 days until arena)**

**MERCEDES JONES, DISTRICT 6 FEMALE (Axe Smelling God)**

**Age: 15**

God, I hate my costume. It's original, maybe, but I was practically broiling under the heat of the LED-plates and the steam that kept burning my skin. As I strip now, in the back-lobby of the training center, I really don't give an eff about who sees me. Besides, I have a black strapless unitard on as well.

As I slowly pull the black stretchy fabric from my skin, I see that, yes, the suit has burned me. It's not severe, but the pure feeling of cool air blowing on my skin is enough to make me almost fall over. It _burns_. With coolness and heat at the same time. And I was covered in this stupid suit, which means all of my skin is ruined, except for the area where the strapless unitard covered me.

I turn on my stylist in blind rage, spitting out curses in a low voice.

"Why the hell would you do this?" I turn to the left and see Ron looking at me in surprise, and then down at his suit. "Are you trying to get me killed?"

"Uh, no. It's safe. We tested it."

"Not!" I spit at him with my words, and I turn to my only mentor, Roger, who Ron and I have to share. "Can you _do _anything?"

"I can get you sent to the infirmary." Roger thinks for a moment, and then looks at the stylists. "And if you want, you have a good case for firing them, if Ron has the same problem with his skin."

I stare menacingly at Ronald now, as he breaks under pressure, and unzips his suit. Shoot. It's not red, not at all. Smooth and creamy like it's always been.

"My suit must have been faulty!" I scramble for words. "There's no way I could react this badly to it."

My stylist glares at me now, but before he can retaliate with words, Roger lightly touches my shoulders and steers me towards the elevator. Great. One of my last nights alive and I get to spend the night in an infirmary.

* * *

**LUCY FORSYTHE, DISTRICT 2 FEMALE (Oxenstierna D. Yuki Rin)**

**Age: 17**

Honestly, I think this whole floor-system ranking is totally unfair. Why in the world does twelve get to be at the top? Because it's floor twelve? Please! In my opinion, it should be reversed completely, so we (as in district two) could get the next-to-highest suite. Or maybe, it should be ordered by number of victors. With a grand total of eight/twenty-five, district two would get the highest suite! Yes, that would be the most fair.

Instead, Heathcliffe, Lola (mentor), Dugo (mentor), our stylists, Elabella (escort), and I only get to ride the crystal-clear elevator up twenty feet, until the doors open up onto our floor. There are two doors in front of us, one suite for our stylists, which they enter almost immediately, sketchbooks and measurements in hand. Elabella shows us how to use the hand scanner to the left of the door, which has already been pre-programed to recognize our handprints. I press my small palm into the gooey black substance, and after a moment of waiting, the stone-gray door in front of us swings open to reveal our suite.

Past victors have not lied about its splendor. Soft, intricate tan and brown carpet stretches out as far as I can see, and I eagerly kick my shoes off to feel it. The five or so rooms to my left are marked staff, and then, the hallway blooms into a wide, open area that contains a TV for viewing, a dining table and chairs, and a couple of reading nooks and other nice add-ons.

"Lucy and Heathcliffe, your rooms are that way." I immediately spring down the hallway she points at, not listening what she had to say next. I think it had something to do with getting cleaned up for dinner.

* * *

**FENIAH ASH, DISTRICT 7 FEMALE (daughter of oceanus)**

**Age: 17**

All of the buttons in the shower confuse me to no end. The letters are almost nonsensical, like "lemony foam." I know what a lemon is, and I know what foam is, but together? Is it supposed to smell like lemons? Taste like lemons? Sting like lemons? Curiosity wins out, and I cautiously press the button.

Answer: all three are correct. I'm divulged in the light foam from head to toe, and the second any of it lands on my skin, it stings like lemon juice in a paper cut. Literally. As I flounder for a button that will get it off, I accidently stick out my tongue and taste something akin to lemonade deep in my throat.

After three failed attempts, I manage to get somewhat luke-warm water to rain down on me and take off the foam. After it's gone, my skin feels refreshed, and I go back to the panel to pick out hot rose water and green-apple scented shampoo and conditioner. After I'm done, I step out and look around for a comb to run through my soaking-wet black curls, but the drawers only reveal hair and skin masks along with other beauty products. Finally, I spot a metal box to the left of the sink, which I cautiously touch. Even from the lightest contact, an electrical current bounces through my finger and to my hair. It's small though, and my hair is thick and long, so it only reaches my scalp. I touch my other hand to the top of my head and marvel at how soft and thick it feels. This time, I'm bolder, and I flatten both of my palms onto the box, and my hair is dry in ten seconds flat. I run my finger through my hair, looking for clumps, but I find none.

This is technology that I truly wouldn't mind having in my own home. My curls fall to my hips, and I usually spend an hour or two drying and combing my hair every night. What a waste of time, I see now.

I'm growing to like the capitol. The technology, at least.

* * *

**SIREN WAVE, DISTRICT 9 FEMALE (charliesunshine)**

**Age: 18**

Dinner tonight is delectable as usual. This time, it comes in courses, with several dishes available for each. First, are appetizers, which includes fried calamari (which I learn to love), paprika breaded boneless chicken (which I can't get enough of), and a melted cheese dip with an array of different dipping options. Next are soups and salads, which include a pumpkin soup and a delicious simple salad, that Calla, one of our mentors, says is called "Gardo salad." It was named after the announcer that has been around since the games have begun, Gardo Flickerman.

Tadase eats like a pig, but I'm not too surprised. He is a pig. He makes several attempts to start a conversation with either me, or the younger female mentor of ours, Tallie. He obviously considers Calla, who appears to be about forty (she won the second annual hunger games), to be out of game. However, Tallie, who won about five years ago, is the perfect age for him.

"So, Tallie, eh, how'd you win?"

"Tallie, what's the strategy?" This one, he says with a smirk, like he has something else in mind.

"Shut up." I finally say, because it's disrupting my eating to hear his annoying, grating tones. I realize I do, truly, hate him. However, this tactic has a bad effect. He turns on me next.

"Jealous of the attention?" He leans over and pats my hip. "Don't worry. I'll give you plenty of attention. _Later_." Tadase's creepy smile makes me shiver. I hope there's a lock on my door, because I don't want to become another one of his victims. The horror.

* * *

**Two bonus point questions this time! Only valid for first answerer, and only through review**

**1. What's the sequence of numbers that you type into a calculator that looks like hello when you turn it upside down? (1 point)**

**2. In Catching Fire, where are the three places that Katniss runs to (not including her house) after she finds out that she is going to go back into the arena? (2 points)**

**Who is your LEAST favorite character thus far? I think I know the answer :)**

**sp**


	10. Training

**10. **

** TRAINING (3 days)**

**(private sessions not included)**

**ATLANSHI BLEUMOON, DISTRICT 5 MALE (xdisgraceful avengerx)**

**Age: 15**

Breakfast is early this morning. I'm woken up at six-thirty, as training starts at seven, and ends at seven at night. Twelve hours, or eleven if you choose to take lunch, I presume. Maybe they force you to eat lunch, so it's all fair.

Even though the food is early, it doesn't pale in comparison to other meals I've had here. If anything, it's builds on my assurance that you couldn't get better food elsewhere. Today we have an impressive array of meat-related dishes, which range from simple-but-delicious crispy bacon, to a Quiche dotted with more kinds of meat than I've seen in my entire life. I cut a piece from it now, and then after a moment of consideration, I fill the rest of my plate with crispy brown potato thinks. Harker, our district five mentor comes up behind me and suggests I try something called ketchup with the dish. I reluctantly grab a little cup of the red stuff, and fork a bit of the potato dish up and dip it in. It's good! Shockingly so, actually.

"Tomatoes." Harker says. "Great stuff, really. Good on anything potato."

"Ah." I say, and then dig into my quiche. Before ten minutes have passed, Kimberly enters the room, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She's drawn immediately to the pastry side of the table, picking up a couple crumbly crescent-shaped ones, and then grabbing a couple fried eggs. When she sits down next to me, I see the pastry is dripping something chocolaty from the sides. It looks good.

On my next trip up to the table, I snatch a couple of the pastry-chocolate things, and also a couple of pieces of toast with creamy butter. If I can get a few pounds on before the game, it'll certainly play in my favor.

**IRVINE DONALD, DISTRICT 11 MALE (Mudshadow63)**

**Age: 17**

I hate it here for three reasons. The rules. The schedules. The authority. I'm all for the actual fighting and training part: I love anarchy. But I hate how people here are so controlling, what with their perfect little schedules wherein breakfast is set to end at this time and training starts at this time and lunch goes from here to there. Come on. We all know the real excitement is the actual games. No one from the public can even see us eat breakfast or train. It's pointless.

When Conas, the escort, tells me to go get suitably dressed, I consider leaping over the table and smacking her: that's how annoying all of this is. I can tell people are scared of me, and I like it that way. I love being scary, and controlling people with fear. It gives me purpose in life.

The second thing I like the most in life is throwing rules out the window and doing what _I_ want. So instead of getting dressed in "suitable" clothes, I walk into my bathroom and find one of the giant towels that they provide us with. I wrap my hair in a gold towel, and form a strapless-dress sort of thing out of a green towel, stealing the sash off of a red towel for a belt. If I do say myself, I look quite fabulous.

It's mainly for the game makers. They're the one's who irk me the most. Why can't they just, I don't know, throw us out in an arena and let us fight it out without their interference? I'd rather go down fighting than be roasted in some kind of fire-pit they dream up. But maybe, since I'll kill so freely and since I'm oh-so-pyscho, they'll let me die the way I want. After all, it's just a big show to them.

* * *

**LUCAS BOONE, DISTRICT 1 FEMALE (Ailes Du Neige)**

**Age: 17**

I can tell straight up from the start that I will not be welcomed into the career alliance. Amber takes one look at my wheelchair, and then sniffs and traipses over to District two and four. I can tell there will be a career alliance no matter the circumstances, and I will certainly not be a part of it. Thanks to my disability, I will most likely become a target immediately. I can only hope for a quick death, there will be no victor's crown in sight for me.

I wheel over to the middle of the floor, on the outskirts of the tribute circle, and listen to the rules. After they've been said, we're released, and I wait a moment before deciding to go over to a fire-building station. It's empty for now, but almost immediately after I start sending a shower of flint-sparks onto a bed of dry moss, someone sits down across from me and offers a small smile. I don't recognize this girl.

"Hi. I'm Siren." Her pink rosebud lips stretch into yet another gentle smile and I can't help but respond to her.

"Hey." I say, but it comes out wrong. I'm in between deciding to be rough and uninviting, because really, why would anyone want me, or being nice, because this may be the only person who will talk to me all week. "What's up?"

"Trying to make a fire, you?" Her lip twitches as her head tilts; she's trying to read me.

"Same." We both work in uncomfortable silence before she speaks again.

"I've been looking for an alliance. Want to be partners?"

* * *

**SAMMY KOHLER, DISTRICT 7 MALE TRIBUTE (Kiliflower)  
Age: 13**

When the trainer first blows her whistle, I'm momentarily confused. The career tributes go off running towards the combat booths, while the other tributes split down the middle; either following them or heading over to the survival stations. I am the last one to make a move, and I cautiously head towards one of the food stations before I decide to change my direction and go towards the combat section. I have plenty of time to do the other things, but it seems like the best move to learn a skill early, maybe it'll have time to sink in.

Glancing at the sword station, I decide it's far too complicated, and most of the swords are too heavy for me to handle easily. I need something light, and something I can learn to a decent level within two and a half days. After a couple minutes of searching, I sidle my way up to the throwing knives station. No one is at the desk at the moment, but I see the freaky giggly blonde girl from one back at the throwing range. She's great at this skill. Not perfect, but the knife hits somewhere on the dummy-target each time. Heart. Heart. Heart. Skull. Neck. Skull. Upper arm. Stomach. Stomach. Thigh. Thigh. Knee. Stomach.

I only get to watch her from about two minutes before the trainer comes up and gets me started with throwing on a range adjacent to the girls'. She gives me two or three tips, and then stands back to watch me before giving further instruction.

The first attempt I make is awful. It lands in front of the dummy, skimming to a stop right in front of the toe. I grit my teeth and try again, however, and I manage to get the knife stuck (barely) in one of the calves. As I progress I slowly get better, except about half of my knives miss the dummy, not even coming close.

After about the fifteenth knife, I manage to get the hilt buried in the wider-than-human-standards dummy's stomach, and I grin. I am getting better at this. Slowly.

**AMBER MONTOYA, DISTRICT 1 FEMALE (starcrossedloversofd12)**

**Age: 16**

By the time lunch rolls around on day one, the career pack has fielded two wannabes. The first, right of the bat, was the idiotic boy from district eight, who is fatter than all of my family put together. He's obviously spoiled, however, and he wouldn't take no for an answer. So we told him we'd think about it. Ha!

I watch to see if he tries to join us at our large lunch table, but no, he goes to a table by himself near the food tray (of course) and fills plate after plate full of delicacies and piles them on the table. Is he going to eat all of that, I ask myself, but then decide that yeah, he probably is. Who else would sit with him to share? Not that he'd let them.

"So. Career pack 25?" Lucy inquires once we're all at the table. We've gone over this already, but we all nod anyway. "Are we taking any of the askers?" I assume she means the wannabes.

"Certainly not the fat boy." Heathcliffe, Lucy's district partner says decisively. "I don't care either way if we take the girl from eight."

"She's good with a blowgun." River adds from the district corner of the table. "I can vouch that for her. And besides," she pauses glances across the room. I turn and look in the direction. Lucas, the cripple, is sitting with a redheaded outlying-district girl. Odd, but I brush it off. They'll both go down at the fight at the cornucopia, surely.

"We lost him." Lucy finishes. "Might be nice to round out the pack a little."

The next day, at lunch, we invite Khaleesi, the girl we've decided to let in, over to sit with us. She agrees, who wouldn't? She's happy when we let her in, but I can't help but think there's something overlapping the excitement in her eyes. Fear? No, it's something else.

Who cares, though? We've got ourselves a career pack of six. Even if there is an odd alliance or two, there's no way they could match us in numbers or skill. We're unbeatable. And through this, I am unbeatable.

* * *

**HEATHCLIFFE SARUTOBI, DISTRICT 2 MALE (Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Tin)**

**Age: 17**

I divulge the second half of day two purely to wielding my scythe. I'm not particularly dull at it, but I had sort of ceased training with it in the month leading up to the games. I never expected to be voted in. There were better, stronger, older boys at my training depot if they wanted strong, and certainly I wasn't the freakiest boy around if they wanted to get rid of someone.

It must have been because of my brother Soren winning the 23rd annual hunger games. I came to this realization about the same time my two brothers did. Either my district wants to see me carry on the legacy of the Sarutobi family, or the capitol pulled some strings to add drama to the games. I wonder what my parents thought of my reaping. They send letters occasionally, mainly speaking of how proud Soren made them, and how they hope that at least one of the "twins" (my other brother or I) will go on to continue the legacy. After all, the whole reason they sent us to live in district two was so we could win the hunger games. In the capitol, of course, that isn't an option.

My twin, Holden, and I don't care much for the hunger games. Soren was always the stronger, the braver one of us all, the one who remembered our parents the most and wanted to make them proud. But eventually Holden and I accepted that one of us would have to volunteer our eighteenth year, and we embraced training. Holden found himself having a knack for the sai, while I chose a utility-oriented weapon.

Of course, the scythes used for battle are typically shorter, and the blade is curved sharply, perfect for hacking. I don't particularly think I'll love killing, but I don't think I have the mindset where I might break down into tears or anything. I just know I want to get home, or maybe even get to see my parents in the capitol. These people are just minor obstacles.

* * *

**CELRI ASCLEPSIUS, DISTRICT 11 FEMALE (Ashbringer36)**

**Age: 16**

By the start of day three, I'm ready to form an alliance. I've scouted out several people that I think would be alright, all from outlying districts. In my opinion, the outlying districts are consistently shafted. The career districts form strong alliances that wipe out all of us.

There are quite a few outer districts that seem like they'd be open to alliances, but I mainly focus in on district ten. Jayce and Irina have stuck together consistently throughout the training days, and they look reliable. Now they're standing together at the poison station. I edge up beside them.

"Um, hi." How does one ask if they want to form an alliance? "I… um, want to know if you are interested in an alliance."

"Maybe." Irina responds. "Why us, though?"

"You seem all right. You keep to yourselves, like I do. He's good with a whip." I point to Jayce. "And you're all right with a hand-held mace."

"What can you do?" Jayce ventures quietly. "Can you use weapons?"

"I can fire a crossbow." I say quietly. I'm great with a crossbow, actually, thanks to my early life in the woods. My parents always taught me how to use these in case we were discovered by the peacekeepers, but we never did. Only I did, as my parents didn't make it long enough to see the day that the peacekeepers did a sweep of my district. I hadn't practiced with one of the weapons in forever, but learning how to aim and fire is something that never leaves you.

"I think yes." Irina says suddenly. "There's nothing that tells me we shouldn't."

"It would only prolong our survival." I say smoothly, and inside I'm happy. I have a group. A fighting chance.

* * *

**BREE SHANKLES, DISTRICT 3 FEMALE TRIBUTE (Lighty 7)**

**Age: 12**

It just so happens that my new alliance forms at the last minute. It's just before lunch on day three when Nick, Britt and I end up at the same table, knot-tying.

"That looks good!" I busted out, forgetting for a moment where I was, when I saw Britt's complicated knot. "Can you show me?"

"Uh, sure." She shows me slowly, and eventually, within the quarter hour, I master it. "You're a quick learner."

"Yeah, I guess I am." I look at Britt again, and then before I can stop myself I blurt out another sentence. "Will you be in an alliance with me?"

"Now? It's kind-of late, don't you think?" She laughs nervously, and then adds, "Just us?"

"I wouldn't mind an alliance." Came a soft-spoken statement to our left. There stood Nick. "If you'd take me."

"That seems better." Britt thought for a second. "Is three enough, though? What about others?"

"I think three's enough." I said quickly, because really I only wanted a small alliance. I have a bit of an issue about trust, growing up in a community home and such.

"What about Feniah, or Mercedes?" Nick ventured, and Britt nodded. They were the only others that seemed to not be loners.

Despite my qualms, during lunch, we all discretely agree that we should form a five-person alliance. Strength in numbers and all that.

I just hope it pays off in the long run.

* * *

**Three alliances! Yay! I am hereby decreeing the Celri/Irina/Jayce alliance the ten-eleven alliance, and the 5 person team mentioned briefly (Britt/Nick/Bree/Mercedes/Feniah) the five alliance. So here are the rundown of chapters to come: **

**PRIVATE SESSIONS**

**INTERVIEWS – 1****st**** person, Elena Paxor (capitol citizen)**

**BEFORE THE BLOODBATH/PRE-BLOODBATH – 1****st**** person, random/imp view points. **

**COUNTDOWN/60 SECONDS – POVs from everyone hopefully**

**BLOODBATH**

**What are you most excited for?**

**sp **


	11. Private Sessions

**Not my best chapter... oh well! At least it's out of the way :)**

**Scores are scores!**

* * *

**11.**

**PRIVATE SESSIONS**

**(GAMEMAKER POV)**

**HEAD GAMEMAKER: ELODIE LECOR**

**Age: 29**

**Real Age: 34**

After the tributes are paraded into the lunching tent for their last group lunch, I stand up at the raised stage and clap my hands twice. Immediately, avoxes begin to carry and move tables so that there is a writing surface in front of everyone. Including myself, there are eleven game makers who have reached the top, or next-to-top tier of the game maker system. Of course, there are about fourteen others who do menial tasks, like keeping count of deaths and capitol polls.

About ten minutes later, we all sit down to a simple (ha!) lunch of personalized sandwiches. Mine is what it always is, a double BLT on wheat. The hard life of a game maker, right? Here these tributes get the extensive buffets, when the game makers are lucky if we get ten minutes to scarf down a sandwich. We have important jobs, you know.

The moment all of us are done with lunch, the same avoxes appear and replace our plates with a personalized notebook filled with pearly white sheets of paper, perfect for jotting down notes about tributes. How scoring works is that each of us give the tribute a score we see fitting. My score, as the head game maker, counts twice. If the score settles as a whole number, that's automatically the score given. If it's a decimal, we have a quick vote on if we should round up or down.

"Are we ready?" Floos, one of my prodigies, asks from my left.

I nod in response, and we instruct one of the avoxes to head own to the cafeteria and pull out Lucas Boone, who will be first.

"This is the cripple?" Charisa, the game maker on my right whispers to the person beside her, pity somewhat clear in her voice. I hear a confirmation, just as Lucas rolls his way into the center.

"State your name and age for the record, please." The record keeper, Guard, speaks in a bored voice.

"Lucas Esmerelda Boone. Age 17." With that, he rolls himself over to the knife station, and then to a dummy across the room. He leans forward, and starts marking up the dummy, slicing a cut first in the stomach, and then working his way up from there. When he's done, he makes his way to another.

"Thank you." I say soon as the timer clicks to ten minutes. We have twenty-four tributes to go through, and four hours is my absolute maximum.

"I have a question." He says boldly, and I nod for him to speak. "Will I be allowed my wheelchair in the arena?"

"No." Floos says for me, as this has been a topic of discussion before. "A wheelchair would be an unfair advantage. Apologies."

"Thank you for your time." Lucas nods, and then rolls his way out of the training center. I don't know how the boy expects to live past the bloodbath. I wonder if he can possibly crawl. No use in giving him a high score, never less.

"Call Amber in."

Amber Montoya walks in with a slight smile, as if she knows how much better she'll be than the boy before her.

"Go right ahead." I offer, and she springs into a sprint. She's fast, and she makes it to the obstacle course across the center in twenty seconds flat. The obstacle course seems too easy for her, as she jumps between the rocks with ease, and easily uses the ropes to swing across the twenty-foot stretch of pond-water. It only takes her about three minutes, leaving the brunt of the time for her to use the knife throwing range. The dummies spring up with ease, but she hits almost every one of them in vital zones. Only one knife misses, but she gets the target somewhere every other time.

I nod after she leaves, and decisively mark down a '9' on the box available. The smart paper will transport the marking to one of the lesser game makers, who will average the scores as we go.

District two shows just as much promise, if not more, than district one. Heathcliffe seems proficient with a scythe, and Lucy matches Amber's skills with knives. I give them both nines as well.

Benedict from district three goes over his time limit by a little, building a trap that senses motion from a robotic dummy, and sends a dagger straight into it's heart, neck or head, depending on how tall the person is. It's impressive, but it would only work on one person. Bree Shankles, the girl from his district is much less impressive. She fiddles with the natural plant test, earning a 25 out of 50. By this point, most of us have tuned out, playing with our eye screens and chatting through eye movements.

I notice the timer's about to go off, so I glance back into the center to see where the small pathetic girl is. She's gone.

I'm about to voice this discovery when something latches onto my leg and squeezes. I immediately squeal with surprise, kicking my other leg to get the thing off. When I finally come to my senses and look under the table, I see the tribute.

"Bye!" She pipes, and then vaults over the side of our raised area and disappears.

"Well that was strange." I murmur, and decisively mark down a 'four' on my sheet. I don't like being scared.

District four is an improvement on three, being a career district and all. It's back to eternal boredom as soon as the boy from five shows up.

"Atlanshi Bleumoon. Age 15."

Atlanshi went on to show some middle-of-the-road sword skills and plant knowledge. Kimberly bested him in the weapon department, showing okay skill with a knife. Ronald Key, from district six ended up improving on her score by a point or two, showing his surprising skill with a sword. He wasn't great like the careers, but his expertise seemed to stretch back beyond the three days that he had been given. Odd for a non-career district.

Mercedes Jones enters the training center with a nod and goes to retrieve a set of Chinese finger daggers. It's a unique weapon, and she's alright with them, but nothing special. I mark down a five.

For district seven, I give the boy a six for his knife throwing, and the girl an eight. She's good with a throwing axe, with her district and all. She might be nice for drama against the careers.

I don't pay too much attention to district eight, as that's when the early dinner arrives for us. They're still setting it up during Khaleesi's turn, and I manage to stay focused enough to give her a solid seven for her blow dart skills. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I recall that she has been accepted into the careers. I'm off getting my plate ready for the entirety of Fred Jenkin's turn, but by the way my colleagues are tittering, I decide that he must have been awful, and so I put down a three.

I give the same for Tadase Fern's turn, as he shows extreme lack of skill. What can we expect? I turn to his page in the info book, and the most likely reason for him being voted in was the numerous scandalous rapings of girls in his district. Better to get him out of the way early. Siren, the girl from his district shows us some simple archery skills, earning a solid six.

District ten scores record highs for the district.

"Jayce Vicier. Age 14." Instead of crossing to a station like everyone else has, Jayce carries something out of a tent and comes to us. He stands, picking up bottles of liquid and identifying them by key characteristics. Poison.

"If I had to pick one I'd like to see in the arena, I'd choose this one." He holds up a bottle of a murky purple liquid. "Anacotic. Extract of the Allwood berry, commonly known among the districts as Nightlock. Instant death."

As he leaves, the gamemakers start whispering. I hold up a hand to halt the next tribute from coming in immediately, and decisively mark down an eight on my page. Impressive. I might just have to make sure there's some poison readily available at the cornucopia.

Irina Morgan, the female from Jayce's district is decent with a hand mace. She's fast, and she's taller than most, so maybe she could be a threat. I spend a long time deciding whether to give her a six, a seven or an eight; but I end up marking a seven.

By the time district eleven comes around, I'm thankful that only forty or so minutes are left. As the tallest tribute of the games waltzes through the open doors, I take a double look. So this is the rumored mad boy. It'll be interesting to see what he does.

"Irvine Donald. Seventeen." He thinks for another second and then adds. "I'll be working with nunchucks."

"Go ahead." He doesn't seem completely mad, but anyone could see the maniacal glint in his eyes.

Surprisingly, he's more than good with nun chucks. He slices head after head off of the dummies, and I make a note on my pad to ensure that at least two pairs of nun chucks will be included in the cornucopia. This seems like a boy that could have been in the careers, save for his apparent craziness.

"Thanks." I say when his time is up, but he doesn't respond.

Celri Asclepius is another surprise. Her skills with a crossbow outrank many tributes before her. I'm curious, however, how she got these skills. Enough so that I ask her an outright question about it when her time is up.

"Uh. I guess I just have a knack for it?" She responds, but as she looks down I can tell she's lying. Oh well. I mark her down an eight never less, even though she probably deserved a nine.

After twenty minutes with the mediocre district twelve tributes, one who shows us archery, and one who shows us his skill with a sickle; we have our list in full in front of us. There are only two disputes, and both of them get rounded up.

I'm curious as to what the public will think about our list. Most of the districts have higher scores than usual. It's sure to be an interesting game.

**TRAINING SCORES**

**1. **

**Lucas Boone - 4 | Amber Montoya – 8**

**2. **

**Heathcliffe Sarutobi – 8 | Lucy Forscythe – 9**

**3. **

**Benedict Wirespark – 6 | Bree Shankles – 4**

**4. **

**Rhyland Bravo – 9 | River Seanide – 7**

**5. **

**Atlanshi Bleumoon – 6 | Kimberly Merril – 6 **

**6. **

**Ronald Key – 7 | Mercedes Jones – 5**

**7. **

**Sammy Kohler – 6 | Feniah Ash – 8 **

**8. **

**Khaleesi Daren – 7 | Fred Jenkins – 2**

**9. **

**Tadase Fern – 3 | Siren Wave – 6 **

**10. **

**Jayce Vicier – 8 | Irina Morgan – 7**

**11. **

**Irvine Donald - 9 | Celri Asclepius – 9**

**12. **

**Nick Westway – 6 | Britt Montx - 6**


	12. Interviews

**12.**

**INTERVIEWS**

**(MISMATCHED POV)**

**ELENA PAXOR, FEMALE CAPITOL RESIDENT (3****rd**** Person)**

**Age: 14**

Elena Paxor was feeling quite impatient. Her parents and sister were not moving at all, seemingly forgetting that the interviews were on in twenty minutes, and the outdoor arena was at least a half-mile away, which took her mother at least fifteen y minutes to navigate with her ridiculous high heels and the cobblestoned street.

"Are we leaving or no?" Pallor Paxor, her younger sister finally spoke up. "I. Want. Nachos."

"There aren't any nachos for sale there, I told you that, dear." Their mother finally rose, clutching at a strapless bag and rousing her husband to help her get out of their top-tier locational townhouse. "I'll get you some cotton candy, how does that sound?"

Pallor was instantly up, pulling at Elena to guide her out the door. A few minutes later, their house went dark as it automatically sensed that there were no more heat sources in sight.

Thankfully, by the time the Paxor family showed up, the show was just about to begin. They quietly took their seats in the second row of arena seats, settling down into the plush black leather. Pallor obsessively tugged on Elena's sleeve until finally the older sister broke down and ordered the largest available pack of concessions on her seat-screen. The goods arrived not thirty seconds later, and Pallor was thankfully silenced for the rest of the event.

"Welcome, welcome!" Gardo Flickerman danced out onto the stage, exciting the crowd to no end. "Arrrrrrrrrrrre you readddddddddddy for the tributes of the twenty-fifth annnnnual hunger games?"

Elena wasn't one for much screaming, but she clapped her hands to show that she was excited and approved of the event. The twenty thousand people of the arena drowned out Gardo's next words, and the train of arriving tributes did nothing but bring spirits even higher. Gardo asked for quiet as he draws the district one female out with a hand.

**AMBER MONTOYA, DISTRICT ONE FEMALE (starcrossedloversofdistrict12)**

**Age: 16**

My interview goes by in a flash of giggles and smiles as I complement the capitol and insult my tributes in backhanded ways.

For instance, when Gardo prods me to tell him who I think my greatest competition ("Now, tell us Amber, got your eye on any of these skilled competitors out here tonight?"), I respond back with a sweet but spiteful remark.

"Honestly, Gardo, can I tell you something? I think all of you in the capitol would prove a harder challenge than this group right here. I'll be back, I can guarantee that at the very least."

Perfect.

**LUCY FORSYTHE, DISTRICT TWO FEMALE (Oxenstierna D. Yuki Rin)**

**Age: 17**

As Lucas, the cripple, nears the end of his interview, I curl my lip in disgust. The boy is pathetic, almost appalling to almost look at. This is a pageant of honor. What in the world was district one thinking? They've already had the psycho giggly girl, so why make it worse? They've brought shame on their district.

Lucas's last line almost makes me laugh out loud and ruin my perfect scowl I've been holding for six minutes straight.

"I'll put on a show. I'll put on the best damn show you've ever seen."

Yeah, by dying in the bloodbath.

But now I smile as it is my turn, and I lift my stone colored gown and glide over to the chair beside Gardo, my frame lengthened from my five-inch stiletto boots.

"Panem, I introduce Lucy Forsythe, your district two female representative! Now tell me, Lucy, what do you think your odds are for winning these games?"

"One hundred percent." I say, to outcry and clapping.

"Well, well!" Gardo smiles, showing off his laser-whitened teeth. "We have a confident one here! Let's talk about your training score, Lucy, a niiine, not too shabby? What can you say about that?"

"I'm disappointed in the game makers." I say immediately, glaring up at where the game makers see above us. "I don't deserve to tie with four other tributes. I deserved an eleven." I cry.

"An e-lev-en." Gardo stretches out the syllables. "That's never been done, you know. Ambitious, hm?"

"Very." I spit, now slightly irritated at the way he's portraying me. "I'm going into these Games to avenge my brother, Linus Forsythe. He was killed in the finale, and I am seeking my payment from the District who killed my brother."

"Oh!" I've interested Gardo, now. "Care to share what district?"

"You'll just have to find out." I smile. "They'll be the ones I kill first."

**KIMBERLY MERRIL, DISTRICT 5 FEMALE (catching fireflies)**

**Age: 16**

The five interviews preceding me seem to blow by in mere seconds. The boy from two is honest but brave, while the twelve-year-old from three is sweet and bold (as much as she can be). The boy from her district is all scientific and speaks merely of statistics. District four returns to the career-mindset, except the girl seems a little unsure of herself. Gardo goes after her score, the lowest in the career alliance, and she looses ground, unsure. The boy flashes by in another sure-of-himself and brave blur, and then suddenly it's my turn. I'm up.

I start off spirited and fierce, surprising even Gardo and the audience. I think of my final line on the spot, deciding to share my… um… problem with pain pills, thinking to use it to my advantage. I threw the last of my father's stash out the window last night, and I haven't been having too many issues without feeding the addiction. Maybe I'll make it through the games without them. If I make it.

"I'm only alive because of what happened in a dark alley, and because I've gotten tolerant to overdosing on pills." I spit out, seeing the surprise on Gardo's face. "But I'm going to win these games and I'm going to reform myself. Just to prove my district wrong."

"And there you have it." Gardo says quietly. "Kimberly Merril! The girl from district five!"

**ATLANSHI BLEUMOON, DISTRICT 5 MALE (xdisgraceful avengerx)**

**Age: 15**

"So, tell me Atlanshi-" Gardo starts. "What's your best weapon?"

"Daggers and small swords, Gardo."

"Just from the training center?" Usually, it would be a no-no to talk about previous training, or training at all, but Gardo can get away with it.

"It's similar to a ritualistic weapon of my religion." I say quickly, and with that, the buzzer goes off. At least that might come across to some people in the audience, the fact that I've been trained before may raise my standings in their eyes.

I try and watch the rest of the interviews, but I miss the majority of six and seven's due to a couple loose threads on my suit. I eventually get them off, but by that time, I barely catch the end of seven's male interview.

His quote is a tad odd: ("Statistically, the odds of me surviving are astronomical."). It gets him a round of applause though, before Khaleesi Daren steps up to the stage. Even I have to admit she's stunning, in a gray silk ruched dress and an intricate braided hairstyle.

"Hello Gardo." She says, and Gardo kicks the interview off with a few comments on her dress. The rest of it goes by quickly, because after all, it is only three minutes. She's full of charm and a little sarcastic. My favorite line falls near the end.

"Jokes on everyone back at home who voted for me, it's almost like a vacation here, besides the high-chance of dying part."

It reminds me of something that I might say, to shame my district. I feel like she's gone through a lot, like I have.

**SIREN WAVE, DISTRICT 9 FEMALE TRIBUTE (charliesunshine)**

**Age: 18**

I drift off the stage in my tan and green patchwork dress, thankful more than anything that it's over. It wasn't hard, but I want these people to like me. I need them to like me.

I'm so relieved I nearly miss Tadase's few opening remarks.

"So, eh, Tadase." Gardo smiles. "A three, can you tell us about that?"

"Eh, no." Tadase mimics him, smiling maliciously.

"Well, alright. What do you like about the capitol so far?" Gardo tries.

"The women!" Tadase cries, like he expects support from the audience. A few men catcall, but otherwise there's silence. They might have responded if he was attractive. "You know why women have breasts, Gardo?"

"Uh." Gardo says uncomfortably. He's not used to this.

"SO YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO LOOK AT WHEN YOU'RE TALKING TO THEM!" He howls, this time to complete silence. "Right, right? Okay, see that girl from district one? What would you look at when you talk to her?"

"Her face?" Gardo says slowly, as if Tadase is stupid. That gets a few laughs from the audience.

"No, man! You look at the rack!" He says. "She's a feisty one, there, reminds me of one of my girlfriends who was quite a lot of fun." He winks, and I want to burrow my face in my dress from blushing in embarrassment. This is going to look bad on me.

Since Gardo's chair is directly in front of mine, I see the little motion he does with his fingers. The buzzer goes off immediately, even though I doubt it's been a scant minute since Tadase entered the stage. There's clapping, but it sounds awfully artificial, as if it's piped through the sound system.

As Tadase takes his seat, I take special care not to look at him.

"Hey, babe, jealous?"

"No." I hiss, after a minute of pretending to listen. "You're nasty."

"Uh huh." I turn my head, and see his head tilted down at my chest. Gross. "You've got a nice chest as well, honey. Don't you worry, I'll pay you some attention."

"Don't." I hiss again, feeling his breath hot against my neck.

"Later, babe. Later. I'll give you something to think about when you're in the arena."

Now I bury my face in my dress, horrified. God I hope the lock still works on my door. If it doesn't…

I'm so horrified I honestly hide in my dress for fifteen minutes. By the time I peek out, five tributes have gone, and Tadase is leaning back in his chair. Nick, the boy from twelve is up on the stage, and just as I start listening, the buzzer goes off.

It's over. The interviews are over.

* * *

**Sorry to those who didn't get their POVs in! I needed to show certain ones, and don't worry, if you didn't get a POV mention it doesn't automatically mean you've died in the BB. **

**POLL RESULTS:**

**8M: Fred "Chubbs" Jenkins**

**4 » 14%**

**3F: Bree Shankles**

**4M: Rhyland Bravo**

**3 » 11%**

**3M: Benedict Wirespark**

**8F: Khaleesi Daren**

**10F: Irina Morgan**

**10M: Jayce Vicier**

**12M: Nick Westway**

**2 » 7%**

**2M: Heathcliffe Serutobi**

**5F: Kimberly Merril**

**6F: Mercedes Jones**

**7F: Feniah Ash**

**7M: Sammy Kohler**

**11F: Celri Asclepius**

**11M: Irvine Donald**

**1 » 3%**

**NEW POLL UP! HOW MANY SHOULD DIE IN THE BLOODBATH? Vote!**

****this is blind so you guys don't influence each other :)****

**sp**


	13. Pre - Bloodbath

**Nine deaths won the poll with eight votes (and counting!). Death list is pre-set, and I feel bad, but oh well. At least this time, I made sure the gender was split 4-5, and not particularly girls-y. **

**Four would-be-loners will die, along with one career (uh oh), and four-would-be-alliance members. **

**When a tribute dies, you may not gift points to another member, but you can keep them and if you want, remain with the story as a sponsor and sponsor your favorite tribute with items (s)he needs. **

****I'm sorry if you died, because this time I did choose every single one of them. When it got down to the last four, I had a hard time deciding, but I had already started to imagine things I would do with the characters in the games, so I had to keep some of them!**

**Please don't come after me with pitchforks.**

* * *

**13.**

**PRE-BLOODBATH**

**(assorted POVs)**

**SIREN WAVE, DISTRICT NINE FEMALE TRIBUTE (charliesunshine)**

**Age: 18**

Thankfully, I wake up to my prep team knocking on my door. This means that my door has stayed locked all night, which then means that yes, Tadase did not break in and violate me. Thank god.

I swear to god, if one of the careers doesn't do away with him in the bloodbath, I will. I mean, I've made that agreement with cripple boy to protect him, but does he really expect me to honor that? I wouldn't. I feel like I would be expecting the person to fall through on their promise.

I would work much better on my own.

I cross my mainly-red room and open the door for my prep team, who immediately scoop me up and push me into the shower, pressing five different buttons rapidly. I swear to god, my hair is squeaky clean and I've been soaped down in a matter of one or two minutes.

"We're behind schedule." One of them squawks in explanation, slamming my hand flat on the drying pad, and then whisking me out of my room. We get a short ride on the elevator, and then I'm spat out onto the roof and carried to one of the last remaining small hovercraft. We all ride separately to the arena.

Breakfast is set out in the ten-by-ten space, and I try and eat as much as I can while I gape in shock as I watch the ground below us. This is amazing.

* * *

**KIMBERLY MERRIL, DISTRICT FIVE FEMALE TRIBUTE (catching fireflies)**

**Age: 16**

I eat as much as my stomach can hold, but I make sure to choose light things, like croissants and butter. I've basically redefined my bloodbath strategy from just flat out running to going in and actually getting things so I can survive. For that to be successful, I'm going to need to be light on my feet and I'm going to have to have enough blood in my head to think. There are enough alliances and brave tributes that things are sure to be interesting, but still, I feel like the careers will be on red alert.

Hopefully this'll be a heavily-supplied year, otherwise I don't know what to do. I guess I could hunt animals, but who wants to do that? Not me. I come from an industrial district.

All at once, the windows and the glass floor in our hovercraft turn light gray, blocking our vision of the outside. I continue to eat, thinking. What could the arena be? Last year it was a mountainous arena, so I can out rule that (thank god), and usually every three or four years there's an arena with trees. But there was woods in the twenty-third, so we probably won't just be getting those this time. I, of course, don't recall the first hunger games, but I'm pretty sure they were something along the lines of a ruined city.

Really, it's no use guessing. I'll just have to see when I get to see.

* * *

**BRITT MONTX, DISTRICT 12 FEMALE (athenagal01)**

**Age: 14**

We land underground. I have to jump down out of the bottom emergency hatch, followed by my stylist as we walk through clean, well-lit catacombs. I heard the gamemakers live under the arena as well, except I fully doubt their quarters are as sparse as ours.

My stall at the "stockyard" (the launch room) has metal floors, cream walls, and a glass faceted vase filled to the rim with daisies. Daises. Something about that seems wrong to me. Of course, my glass launch tube stands still in the middle of the room, along with a monitor that displays one of the numerous hunger games channels. I think the reporter is spouting something about how ingenious the arena is supposed to be this year. Even though it might be useful information, I tune him out as Bark, my old stylist, motions for me to get dressed in my outfit.

It's strange. I have skin-tight black running leggings with a zipper mid-thigh, to zip some of the length off if I want. On the bottom, I wear a simple pair of black underwear and a matching sports bra. My shirt is black as well, with a decorative dark gray stripe across the bottom.

Bark leans in and motions for me to listen.

"I heard the stripe is different for each district. It starts with white, for district one, an then goes through the rainbow plus pink pretty much until gray."

"'kay." I say, because I'm not sure how this will help me. It's just a stupid unnecessary stripe. Really, I could be dead in an hour. I don't care about colors at the moment.

The deal for my five-person alliance is that we all go in and try and score something. If it looks bad, we run, but whoever gets supplies gets first tier when using the supplies.

I figure I can skirt the edge of the cornucopia, get some loaves of bread, maybe a couple small packs, and then disappear into our agreed meeting place. We're supposed to go to the area of the arena to which the cornucopia's tail points. Be it a forest, a lake, whatever.

* * *

**LUCY FORSYTHE, DISTRICT TWO FEMALE (Oxenstierna d. Yuki Rin)**

**Age: 17**

"Really? They had to give us red?" I fume at my stylist. "White's much better. Red is just so… ugh. I want blue!"

"Blue is seven, eight and nine." My stylist sighs. "You get red."

"Fine." I spit, and march over to my tube, even though the lady over the intercom said I still had a minute. I need to take out my aggression on a certain few tributes. District nine, to be exact. I hate them beyond words, even if the boy wasn't as disgusting as he is. They killed my brother. They will pay.

I know Amber's with me, since the bastard Tadase verbally molested her last night. She's out to get him, so if she gets him first it's fine. I'll just go after the girl.

"Launch in fifteen seconds." The voice monotones again. I'm already prepared, and I simply close my eyes as the voice counts down from ten. There's a brief pause, as if someone refused to get in their tube (ugh), and then the glass comes down on the open side of the tube and I'm being lifted.

It's time for my hunger games to begin.

* * *

**COUNTDOWN is next! THEN: BLOODBATH**

**sp**


	14. 60 seconds

**OMG. 2k words & 2 hrs for 60 seconds! **

* * *

**14. **

**COUNTDOWN**

**(multiple POVs)**

"Let the twenty-fifth annual hunger games begin!"

**60**

As soon as the announcer's voice ended, and the clicks symbolizing seconds started, Amber whipped her head to the left, analyzing the room she was trapped in. A room. Wait. Was this some kind of sick joke?

**58**

Atlanshi Bleumoon was focused only on getting out of the sterile white room where the cornucopia was located. The white stone (marble) shone with a sickening glint, sure to be stained red within minutes. The problem was, how was he going to get out?

**56**

As soon as Portsmill Templesmith finished his twenty-five year-old traditional sentence to kick off the game, he lifted himself out of the leather voiceover chair that he had been sitting in for an hour and bustled out of the small cubicle into the main filming area for the usual game commentators. Gardo Flickerman and his team of two regular analyzers were already seated in their chairs, getting ready to start filming on the thirty-second mark.

**54**

Emily Westway was throwing a fit. For the time that her brother, Nick, was away in the games she was to live with his best friend's family, and they were refusing to let her watch the games. She could hear every passing second, and the ticks infuriated her. So maybe she was a little too young to watch. After all, they didn't start Hunger Games education in school until grade six.

Emily needed to make sure her brother was okay.

**52**

Elodie Lecor tapped her fingers on the desk, trying to decide if she should lower the lights in the central room to add confusion to the mix. If one of the inner-district tributes wound up killing an ally because they couldn't see, it would add drama.

_But then kids would have a better chance of getting away. _

**50**

In the main capitol square, things were in chaos. People were shouting out of their windows, everyone was waving the free foam bloodbath deaths number they predicted, and random pockets of tribute clubs chanted certain players names.

Someone had gotten wind of the color-coordinated shirt plan and released it early to the public, so it was pretty much easy to tell at a glance at least which district people were rooting for. There was a surplus of whites, reds and yellows, but there were representatives for all districts. It was a rainbow of pandemonium.

**48**

Benedict Wirespark was surrounded by careers. The girl that Tadase had harassed the night before (Amber?) was to his left, and the ginger-haired faux-career was to his right. Granted, they were probably both going to dash to the mouth of the cornucopia, which was on the other side, so if he just hesitated half a second and let Khaleesi pass, he could run straight and get his choice of the numerous packs hung on the back of the golden structure.

**46**

Bree Shankles turned her back completely on the arena. No matter what her alliance had said, there was no way she was going in there. Stepping carefully on her somewhat unstable platform, she analyzed the wall behind her. She was supposed to meet her alliance where the tail of the cornucopia pointed, and she was right in front of the mouth. Squinting against the white walls, Bree felt herself whimper with annoyance. There had to be a way out.

**44**

Thankfully, Britt was almost exactly in front of the mouth of the cornucopia, unlike others who had the misfortune of being behind it. Even so early in the countdown, she had her plan down. She would dart across the wide mouth and snatch the three filled backpacks to the left, and then hightail it away, hopefully finding a way out of this confusing room.

**42**

President Izobel Clare was sitting at her upside-down "u" shaped desk, watching the countdown with detached disinterest. Every distended second passed with a carefully developed blank clicking sound, and it was obviously having effect on some of the tributes. Izobel had personally asked the head game maker, a childhood friend of hers, to make these games particularly disconcerting.

Isn't it always more fun that way?

**40**

**38**

Nowyi Dapple watched carefully as the camera slowly panned around the group of tributes, identifying them as it went. She typed them all down with a careful hand in perfect order, making sure that she noted the color as well.

**36**

The order went like this (starting from the mouth of the cornucopia and going left): Bree, Britt, Kimberly, Heathcliffe, Tadase, Irina, Lucy, Fred, Jayce, Mercedes, Amber, Benedict, Khaleesi, Atlanshi, Feniah, Irvine, Lucas, Nick, Rhyland, River, Sammy, Ronald, Siren & finally Celri next to Bree.

Nowyi smiled, glanced up to double-check her work, and pressed send on the document, uploading it to her wildly popular resource/news website for the games.

Almost immediately, a comment appeared (probably through an eye screen), asking her to upload the color district key.

**34**

Nowyi hurried and ordered the computer orally to figure out the correlation of colors. Almost immediately, the computer beeped and spit out twelve numbers associated with colors. The list was as followed:

District – Color

1 – White

2 – Red

3 – Orange

4 – Yellow

5 – Green (subset: Light)

6 – Green (subset: Forest/Dark)

7 – Blue (subset: Eggshell/Light)

8 – Blue (subset: Sky/Medium)

9 – Blue (subset: Navy)

10 – Purple

11 – Pink

12 – Gray

Cheerful, Nowyi Dapple pressed post on the list as well, quickly earning several dozen views in a few seconds.

Thirty seconds until she started live-blogging the cornucopia!

**32**

Feniah Ash was relaxed, but focused. From a lifetime of watching the games, she knew that, typically, the tributes that died went after several things. Feniah knew that she only needed an axe, or some kind of blade. But, right in front of her, resting against the gold tail of the cornucopia was a perfect black and silver axe. It was almost like the ones they had at home, except much nicer and probably sturdier.

**30**

Celri Asclepsius, like Bree next to her, was completely turned around (towards the wall) when it happened. All at once, a rainbow of doors illuminated the sickly white wall in front of her. Ranging in size (but none too small that a tribute couldn't get through) and color, the doors were spread equidistant around the room. Celri counted one... two… thirteen in all.

**28**

Even though Lucy was turned towards the cornucopia, the sudden assault of colors distracted her from the prize. Uncertainly, Lucy played with the bottom of her shirt until she glanced behind her and saw a red door. Red! The doors matched the shirts, or at least it was an uncanny coincidence.

**26**

Pallor Paxtor screeched with glee when she saw the doors appear on the otherwise boring white circular room. This suddenly made the games so much more interesting! Instead of all the boring fighting, maybe the show would turn into one of her favorite Saturday morning shows: Pilley Pants, Shattery Plate and the Great Rainbow Adventures!

**24**

Altric Paxtor looked on in annoyance as his daughter, Pallor was taken out by one of the avoxes. She had started screaming about pilled pants and shattered plates (what in the world?), and was totally interrupting the focus that Altric needed. He never placed his semi-semi-final bets/sponsorships (ten in total, each ranging from five thousand to ten thousand pingins) until the middle of the bloodbath. Altric had five of his bets all lined up, but he needed to choose the other half.

Even though points were refunded if the tribute dies before the mentor can gift them, it was still quite important to get it right the first time.

**22**

Heathcliffe Sarutobi busied himself from thinking about what he was about to do by figuring out where all of his allies were located.

Lucy, the girl from his district, was the closest, only two tributes away to the left. Amber was four past her, Khaleesi was one away from Amber, and district four was six away from her. Good. They were all fairly spread out this year, which made better for protecting both each other and the supplies.

**20**

Fred's plan had never been anything else but to join the careers. Even after he had heard nothing back from them, and they had started letting Khaleesi sit with them, he doggedly refused to accept that they had turned him down. They must have forgotten, Fred decided.

He would go up and talk with them peacefully, he mused. _After_ he picked up his share of those delicious cheese buns sitting just feet in front of his platform.

**18**

Irina Morgan, like most of the other tributes, had locked onto a certain pack that was _hers_. It was a nice golden-gray color (which would work well if one of these doors led to a field or a farm), and looked stuffed, but manageable. And really, just feet away stood her hand mace. It was meant to be. The weapon was dangerously close to the cornucopia, but if Irina could dash in, dash out, and hopefully find her renegade alliance, everything would work out well in her favor.

**16**

Siren Wave was almost slightly freaking out. _Where should I go?! Where should I go!? WhereshouldIgo? WhereshouldIGO?_

With less than fifteen seconds to spare, Siren finally set her sights on a small pack a few steps away. She would get that, then maybe go further in to grab a few weapons. It would work. She would survive.

**14**

Tadase watched his district partner with narrowed eyes, licking his lips. Siren had been smarter than him last night, dashing into her room and throwing the dead lock before he could use his typical trick, a slip of paper in-between the jam. But, in the arena, Tadase was going to give the capitol a show. Maybe Siren would end up loving him. There was always a chance, with his victims and all.

**12**

_Crap_. Lucas Boone hadn't been counting the seconds. But by the expressions of those around him, he guessed the gong was coming within twenty seconds.

_I hope it's painless_.

For a moment there, Lucas considered stepping (or rather crawling) off of his platform early so he wouldn't have to die at the hands of another. But he was far too fearful and cowardly to do that.

**10**

_Ten seconds_! Rhyland realized with glee. Of course, his friends (Eppa, Cou & Selene) weren't with him at the moment, but he had discussed this moment with them in full the night before.

It was going to be the time of this life, Selene had promised. Cou had told him to go immediately for the tridents, while Eppa had told him to watch out for the boy from eleven.

He was a distinctive threat, she had said. And Rhyland trusted her.

**9**

Irvine Donald was fixated on two pairs of spiked nunchucks that hung on both sides of the cornucopia. They were up high, out of reach of most of the tributes. They were meant for him.

He was going to make sure he killed at least one at the cornucopia. The rest of them, he would save for later.

**8**

Jayce Vicier angled himself slightly away from the cornucopia. He was going to try and get the things on the edge for himself and his alliance. With this uncertainty of an arena, anything was quite possible. He needed to be prepared.

**7**

Mercedes was counting off the seconds until the gong rang out, trying desperately to steel her nerves. She had seen most of her alliance get ready to run, so Mercedes decided she was going to be a hero and get supplies.

After all, she would get first pick.

**6**

Sammy Kohler was feeling dizzy, trying to decide between two different packs. Righto or left? Right or left? Right or left?

**5**

_This is it. _River Seanide thought with a sick feeling in her stomach. _The games are about to start. _

**4**

"Four!" Everyone in the Paxor household chanted, even Elena.

**3**

_Three more seconds_, Nick thought.

**2**

Kimberly took one last breath.

**1**

"ONE!" One of the career tributes got brave and shouted out, milliseconds before the clock hit zero.

**0**

And the metallic resonating sound of the gong reverberated across the arena

* * *

**BLOODBATH NEXT!**

**sp**


	15. Sponsoring System

Hey everyone!

This chapter will be covering how exactly an author, or a non-author may sponsor a tribute. Already, points have been adding up. To this point, only submitters could earn points! Well, now, you may request an account! To prepare for this, I've added a point center on my profile. If you'd like a sponsorship account for this story, please say so in a review or PM. The only difference between you and a submitter of tributes is that you won't have any names to the right of your points.

Points will add up just like submitters. So answer questions and review away!

* * *

**A special note for submitters - as your tribute(s) die(s), the name will be removed from the right of your account description (check point center): **

**example - radieux (7 points) ELENA PAXTOR. **

**Let's pretend Elena was a tribute. If she dies, the name would go away, but you would still have points and an account to sponsor other tributes with! So please don't give up on the story if your tribute dies. Just pick another character to send your very important points to!**

* * *

**Anyway, this is how sponsoring will work basically. A gift can be worth 1-26 points, with examples (not always how it will go) below to how much a gift is worth. The categories are as followed: Weapons, Food, Water, General Supplies, Medicine, Clothes, and Other (Mystery). Explained here, along with the examples mentioned above:**

_**WEAPONS - As the name suggests, from tridents to bows, this category will get the tribute what it needs to survive.**_

_**(1 - scrap of metal, heavy stick, 6 - shield/flat piece of metal, 8 - quiver of arrows 15 - good-quality bow, 24-26 - finnick's trident/cato's body armor)**_

_**FOOD - Obvious. From crackers to eight course meals, this sustenance may just keep your tribute alive.**_

_**(1 - a pack of 3-4 crackers, 7 - a loaf of bread from your district, 18 - a extra-large container of crackers & beef, 24 - Katniss & Peeta's basket)**_

_**WATER - H2O**_

_**(1 - 200 ml of water that may or may not be poisoned, 10 - full waterbottle, 15 - two gallon container of purified water, 24 - recurring supply of water, gallon a day)**_

_**GENERAL SUPPLIES - From a tent to a bottle of iodine, this is where you get miscellaneous items.**_

_**(1 - a curved rock, 6 - an umbrella, 18 - a sleeping bag, 24 - tent)**_

_**MEDICINE - Could save his/her life.**_

_**(1 - bandage, 8 - cough syrup, 18 - generic brand anti-infection drugs, 24-26 - capitol medicine)**_

_**CLOTHES - Pretty explanatory.**_

_**OTHER - You'll just have to see! This could save your tributes b-u-t-t or it could totally send them on the wrong path, your choice. **_

**So these are basic guidelines. So, you will leave a review or PM if you want to use your points. If you are a non-submitter, and you answered a point-question right, please identify which tribute you want to gift your points too. If you do not, the points will disappear.**

**Warning: at some points in the game, the author retains the liberty to create a point-earning blackout period (where no new points are eligible to be earned). This would be in the case of a feast or another event. **

**sp**

* * *

_**PLEASE NOTE: **_

_**bloodbath chapter is coming! very quickly after this one, actually, but I needed to get this one out of the way! so please don't forget to review this chapter and take a swing at the questions below (and to add another point to your acc!). **_

_**POINT QUESTIONS: **_

_**1. RIDDLE: With thieves I consort, With the vilest, in short, I'm quite at ease in depravity; Yet all divines use me, And savants can't lose me, For I am the center of gravity! What am I? (1 point)**_

_**2. BOOK QUESTION: what is the very last word of the hunger games book one? (last chapter, last word) (1 point)**_

**_3. BOOK TRIVIA: How does Katniss get across the electrified fence in book two? (1 point)_**

**_Don't forget to ask for a sponsor account!_**

**_sp_**


	16. Bloodbath

**Okay, first of all, make sure you didn't forget your review (points, remember?) on the last chapter. It was uploaded the day after the last, and besides, the chapter has a ton of good info in it. **

**And second of all, I'd like to collect your pitchforks and matches. **

**You will not be given them back until the end of the next chapter. Okay? Good. **

**Now, I'm very sorry if your tribute died. In facccccct, I regret to say that one of you who submitted two tributes will find yourself without any at the end. **

**R+R!**

* * *

**15.**

**the**

**BLOODBATH**

**AMBER MONTOYA, DISTRICT ONE FEMALE (starcrossedloversofd12)**

**Age: 16**

The moment I hear the gong resonate through my feet on the platform, I'm leaping off, hitting the surprisingly slippery floor running. I'm one of the first ones off, but I'm not the first. By the time I'm able to zero in on a vest of throwing knives slung across blanket rolls, the sound of metal against cornucopia sounds as Rhyland locates his favorite type of sword.

I'm thinking about how lucky I am that I'm in an alliance with him, and not against me, when I see one of my most detested tributes jogging (jogging!) to a pack about thirty feet away from the cornucopia. Ducking below the blanket rolls, I wait until Tadase has bent over to sink a knife into his low back. I was aiming for high, but this works.

I keep low to the ground as I dash over to the crumpled body, smiling as I go. He should have known better, at the interviews and all. No one gets away with messing with me.

"Awe." I coo, leaning down and poking the hilt of another throwing knife into his skull. He groans. He's conscious, but not for long. I'll have to hurry. Making sure he still can feel the pain, I slide one first into his neck (avoiding the spinal cord, because then he'll die immediately) and then the other in-between his ribs. Smiling sadistically, I grate the ribs as I slowly spin the knife, eliciting a scream from dying Tadase.

"That's what you get for-" That's how far I get before everything goes black.

* * *

**HEATHCLIFFE SARUTOBI, DISTRICT TWO MALE (Oxenstierna D. Yuki Rin)**

**Age: 17**

My mouth open in some semblance of shock, I see Irvine grasp the steel nunchucks he holds and swings it up with the precision of someone who's trained with the ancient weapons for years. With a sickening crack, the metal connects with Amber's blonde hair. I hear the snap of her neck and the crack of her skull all the way from here, twenty or so yards away. I raise my war scythe as I shuffle uncertainly towards him, but there's nothing I can do. Irvine rises with a maniacal giggle as he grabs a stuffed pack behind him and runs like the wind towards a pale pink door that matches the rose on his shirt.

Even though warzone is going on around me, I don't move from my position until the blue-haired boy disappears and the door slams with a clang.

That boy, he's dangerous. If we didn't know that already.

* * *

**LUCAS BOONE, DISTRICT ONE MALE (Ailes Du Neige)**

**Age: 17**

In this arena especially, I can't help but think that there's absolutely no way that I'm going to make it past thirty minutes. But I start to crawl anyway. It's a slow, painful crawl, and I can just imagine my mom at home sobbing about how unfair the games are. She's right. Even the runt from three has a better chance than me. Every ten seconds or so, I check back to see my progress, and it's not much. The first time I do look back, however, I get to see Amber's head broken in two.

I guess district one's not having a victor this year. Serves them right.

It's not until my fourth time looking back that I see a flurry of blonde hair running towards me. At first, I think I'm hallucinating and it's Amber, she's not dead, but no, it's Lucy, and she's barreling towards me with a handful of knives.

In my less-than-helpless state, it's all I can do to not fall over before she hits me running and knocks me onto my back.

"Quickly." I sputter, because I'm not ready for death. Not now. Not here. But it'll be over soon.

I think I spot a look of disgust on Lucy's face, but then she nods and says, "Fine."

And then, without hesitation, she digs two of her knives into my head. I feel a sharp flash of pain, but then it's gone.

I'm floating.

And all is dark.

**NICK WESTWAY, DISTRICT TWELVE MALE TRIBUTE (Mrs. Cato)**

**Age: 15**

It takes me a few seconds to start running, but once I do, I don't stop. The tail of the cornucopia is right in front of me, split between the district one cripple and I. So when the gong went off, the cripple slumped to the ground and started running towards a different door than I was aiming towards. So I hurdled over him and kept running, seeing Bree's brown pixie-cut bobbing ahead of me. A couple agonized screams right off the bat almost make me glance back, but soon enough we've reached a door. It's gray, which I notice matches the bottom of my shirt. Coincidence, maybe.

"Oh good." Bree exhales as I run up next to her. "I didn't think you would be a career, but-" Her eyes light up with fear and she opens her mouth to scream a word. "WATCH OUT!"

I immediately duck, but once I see that Bree hasn't moved an inch, I look backwards, and immediately wish I hadn't. Rhyland, the handsome charmer of a boy from four is just finishing up with Britt. As in: running her through with a sword.

Britt immediately makes a move to go and help her, but I manage to grab onto her leg as darts by.

"Let me go! Let me go!" She shrieks, whining hopelessly as I don't listen to her. "I have to help Britt."

"She's past helping." I say simply. It's true. Britt is crumpled to the ground, and I bet if it wasn't the bloodbath, her canon would have already rung.

"She was the first person I trusted." Bree is still whimpering, but she's stopped trying to go towards the girl. "Britt's gone."

"Let's try and make sure we don't meet the same fate." I say softly, and turn back to the door. At first, it doesn't move an inch, but slowly, surely, the door moves out as my stomach sinks. A wall of coal blocks our way into the room/section of the arena. If I had a coal axe, I could break through it in a couple seconds, but really, there's nothing I can do without running back into t.

"We have to go to the next one." I whisper to Bree, even though it's useless. The fightings' still happening.

"What? No! Our alliance won't know-" Bree almost yells, but I put my hand over her mouth and fireman carry her over to the next door to the left, which is orange. We reach it within the minute, and this time the door gives.

I carry Britt out onto the slick black and silver platform and dart my eyes around as I try to take in the buildings around me. Finally Bree wiggles her way out of my grasp and exhales as her eyes widen in shock.

"This is my district. Or at least, part of it."

-o-o-

* * *

**RHYLAND BRAVO, DISTRICT FOUR MALE TRIBUTE (Ailes Du Neige)**

**Age: 17**

It isn't too hard to find my next victim after the sallow onyx-haired girl is past saving. There, walking straight towards me, is the overweight blonde kid from district eight who tried to join us last week. Unlike Khaleesi, who actually was useful, we unceremoniously never spoke to the fat twerp again. Looks like he's after an answer. He'll get one alright.

"Rhy, can I please get a knife or something? I swear, I had the annoying kid from five right at my grasp but I didn't have a weapon. So I came to you."

Baring my teeth in a smile, I nod. "Sure I've got something. Come pick."

In reality, I only have my trusty sword on me. Call it risky, but when you're Rhyland Bravo, there's practically no risk in the hunger games.

Sighing in relief, Fred tottles over to me and lifts his hand, expecting a heavy weapon to be tossed into it. Instead, I sever his wrists. Before he can think about it, his head's rolling on the ground as well. For good measure, and for practice, I swing and cut his torso from his hips and legs before they can fall to the ground also.

Ignoring the dismembered body practically floating in blood, I turn around and observe the arena. I've had two kills. Might as well let the others get a few.

Crossing over to the cornucopia, I lean up against a golden wall outside of the mouth and wait for this all to be over. If anyone accuses me of being lazy, well, I could either show them twelve and eight, or they could join their ranks themselves.

* * *

**RIVER SEANIDE, DISTRICT FOUR FEMALE TRIBUTE (katnisspeetaforever12)**

**Age: 15**

As soon as the real killing begun, I checked to make sure none of the careers were watching, and I darted into the spiral of the cornucopia, hiding in one of the folds. If anyone catches me, I could always say I was checking for survivors.

Once I'm past Khaleesi, our new recruit, who is checking the packs for something specific (probably her blowgun), it's easy to get in the small hollow. I pant once I'm in there, and press my back flat against the gold. Suddenly I'm ravenous, even in spite of the things happening around me. Checking for returning allies, I snatch a small pack of beef jerky and climb back into my hollow, chewing and trying to think.

Most likely, I'll make it through the bloodbath, even though I only got a seven. If I can manage to tag along with the pack for about five or six days, then I can split. But first, I'd say there has to be at least one or two in our ranks down (so I'm not one against five), and maybe eight total. Will I make it that far?

Only time will tell.

* * *

**LUCY FORSYTHE, DISTRICT TWO FEMALE TRIBUTE (Oxenstierna D. Yuki Rin)**

**Age: 15**

After I get rid of the cripple (thank god), I take caution as I make my way back to the cornucopia. I saw what happened to Amber, and I wouldn't put it past Irvine to suddenly jump out of his doorway and come barreling for me or River, or even the guys.

As I look around, I can see Rhyland talking to Fred (he'll surely finish him off), Heathcliffe grimacing as he prepares to sink his war scythe into a small mousy-brown headed girl (district 6?), and the edge of Khaleesi in the cornucopia. I don't think she's much of a run-off type, so I cross to Heathcliffe just as the girl lets out a bloodcurdling scream.

"Shut up, would you?." I murmur to myself, and change directions immediately. I hate screaming. Just… die quieter.

It's a good thing I do turn around though, because the super-smart (notice the sarcasm) sneak attacks have begun. Typically, five or six kids will try and wait until all of us are occupied and grab supplies. It works for about half, but they never get enough to survive for long relying just on that source. Some of them are stupid enough to try and grab a lot. That's where I come in.

Right now, I have my sights set on a small boy, I think from district ten. He's hunched over, rifling through a pack (idiot) and I don't hesitate to throw a knife (even though I'm better close range), which gets him in the neck. It would kill him for sure, but I slit the other side of his neck for good measure. Boom. Another kill for Lucy Forsythe. My sponsorship must be through the roof already.

I'm walking/jogging back to the cornucopia when I see Khaleesi and her blow gun. For a few terrifying seconds as she aims it towards me, I think she's turning on me, but I have an eye for aim, and I notice that she's going for over my shoulder.

Careful to avoid the trajectory of the dart, I duck and swing with the longest of my knives, catching the girl behind me on the calf. It's not fatal, but it makes her stumble. I feel the red hot pain of a knife against my arm and swear, seconds before I hear the telltale suction-y pop of a blowdart finding it's target. Khaleesi's not bad.

"What in the worl-" I think the girl's name is Siren. Siren… Ward or something like that. Anyway, Siren gets a sentence out before she slumps to the ground, gargling nonsensically and almost immediately going still.

"Hey, thanks!" I call warily to Khaleesi, who nods.

"No problem." She calls back.

She's marked herself as someone to watch. Before I split from the pack, I'll be sure to make sure she's out of the games. But for now, she's a valuable assent.

* * *

**RONALD KEY, DISTRICT SIX MALE (IronLOTRgurl)**

**Age: 15**

I'm so confused about my surroundings that I don't even notice the boy until I run straight into him. He's on the ground, surprised as I am.

I guess I look menacing or something, because he takes this moment to come charging towards me. I'm not quite sure what to do, but I hold the knife I've been cutting through the leaves and ivies with, and blindly slash it. It's not like a sword, but it hits it's mark.

The boy (I still haven't seen his face) gasps slightly as the knife buries itself in his chest, and then slumps to his knees. No! Crap, I didn't really want to kill anyone this early. I'm not a career, but this boy was threatening me… does that give me an excuse? I'm not sure.

I recognize him now. It's Sammy Kohler. The boy from seven. As I gasp at him in shock, I notice how the bottom of his shirt has a stripe like mine. Instead of it being green, it's pale blue. Like the color of the door.

It's all coming together. This boy is from district seven. Lumber. I'm in a bank of trees. His shirt matches the door I came through to get here.

This arena is a replica of Panem. At least, I think so. I'm not sure. I counted thirteen doors. Thirteen districts… except there isn't a thirteen anymore.

Would it be the capitol? There's no way to tell. Unless, of course, I go back into the cornucopia room and find the door that doesn't match anybody's shirt. Which would be virtually impossible for me to do without getting painfully killed.

I guess I'll just have to stay in district seven for the foreseeable future. Better than being dead, I guess.

* * *

***shields face* **

**KILL LIST (numbers by finishing place): BB - bloodbath/ 1 - day one/ 2 - day two etc etc**

**ex: finishing # (district, gender) (when); by (killer) (district gender); (method) - (wounds)**

_**24. Tadase Fern (9M) (BB); by Amber Montoya (1F); throwing knives - chest wound and neck wound**_

_**23. Amber Montoya (1F) (BB); by Irvine Donald (11M); nunchucks - broken neck/split skull**_

_**22. Lucas Boone (1M) (BB); by Lucy Forsythe (2F); knives - neck wound**_

_**21. Britt Montx (12F) (BB); by Rhyland Bravo (4M); sword - "run through" **_

_**20. Fred Jenkins (8M) (BB); by Rhyland Bravo (4M); sword - decapitation**_

_**19. Mercedes Jones (6F) (BB); by Heathcliffe Sarutobi (2M); war scythe - "uncertain" **_

_**18. Jayce Vicier (7M) (BB); by Lucy Forsythe (2F); thrown knife - neck wound**_

_**17. Siren Wave (9F) (BB); by Khaleesi Daren (8F); blowgun/dart - poisonous dart**_

_**16. Sammy Kohler (7M) (BB); by Ronald Key (6M); knife - chest wound**_

* * *

I focused a lot on careers, but I thought it was fitting. At the moment, I can only give you updates on where some people are, because otherwise I'm still deciding between districts.

CAREERS (5/6) - CORNUCOPIA ROOM

BREE & NICK - DISTRICT 3/ORANGE DOOR

IRVINE - DISTRICT 11/PINK DOOR

Otherwise it's a big ?... for you at least *smiles*

I apologize again if your tribute died, but feel free to follow the story and sponsor others in their time of need. If you are so completely done with this story you want me to delete your points, let me know :)

Anyway, I'm sorry for not showing Sammy and Mercedes' deaths in detail. I have a reason, as always.

Thoughts? Rants? Do you want your pitchfork and matches back?

All available in a review down there :)

sp


	17. AN & Summary (important)

**Hello all!**

**I regret to inform you that I have lost my book of notes for this story, and will be unable to continue throughout the end. I may be introducing a fresh SYOT a little later, so you all are very welcome to submit to that.**

**To soothe the ending a bit, I have taken a page off of one of the SYOT's I submitted to, and give a rough outline of who would win and what happened.**

**I'm very sorry, and if you have other questions please feel free to PM me!**

DAY 1

The bloodbath comes and goes, taking with it the third highest number of kills yet (8) to be seen in the hunger games. Commentators are seen commentating on the gruesome ends of **Amber Montoya** from One and **Fred Jenkins** from Eight. Barely thirty minutes from the start of the games, **Ronald Key** and **Sammy Kohler** have a run in on the district seven slice of the arena, resulting in the death of **Sammy Kohler**. Tributes begin to figure out that the arena is modeled after the twelve districts. But there are thirteen doors. The careers set up camp near the questionable thirteenth door, but still in the cornucopia room in case any stragglers come back for supplies. They don't.

DAY 2

The day starts off with a bang, or a cannon, at roughly six am; waking the careers. They immediately fear of **Irvine**, their one true competitor and arguably the best reason to stick together. It seems reasonable enough, as **Lucy Forscythe**, their guard of the night, is gone. There are no traces of a struggle, and the careers stand puzzled until they notice the black door behind them is cracked. River quietly goes up and shuts it, and the careers decide to move across the room. **Lucy Forscythe** is presumed and confirmed dead by an unseen mutt steps inside of the black room. The careers, shaken by the loss of Lucy, decide to stay put for another day. There are no other deaths on day two.

DAY 3

**Benedict Wirespark**, in the early hours of the morning, sneaks out of the district door he was holed up in, and sneaks past the careers and heads into the pink door, the one that matches his shirt. He is overjoyed to find his district waiting. In this excitement, he makes a fatal mistake. He leaves the door cracked, and when the guard of the careers awakens from his brief slumber, **Heathcliffe** notices and wakes the others. They head into district three. Meanwhile, **Irvine** in district 11 leaves his room and randomly picks another door to terrorize, having found no one in the previous. In a case of extreme bad luck, Celri Ascelepius ventures out of her own wedge at the same time. Two minutes later, the kill number rises by one. Late in the same day, the careers come across **Bree Shankles and Nick Westway** in district three. Surprised and delighted, they quickly kill **Bree** by sword, while **Nick** barely makes it away with his life. Little did he know, his upper arm was grazed by one of** Khaleesi's** darts.

DAY 4

The first sign of any action all day begins with a canon at roughly ten AM. **Nick Westway** has succumbed at last to the deadly poison found in the dart that barely touched his arm. The careers, having made camp in district three the day before, decide that they've exhausted the mainly industrious-wedge of the arena out of tributes, they leave, incredibly not noticing the web-trap that **Benjamin Wirespark** has set for them. The electrical charge isn't enough to kill most of them, but **River Seanide** gets caught up in the edge of the net and is repeatedly electrified until her canon fires. The careers, shaken by the death, irrationally fear** Irvine** and get out of the wedge, instead braking the coal barrier over the district 12 wedge, and sheltering in what district 12 tributes would recognize as the seam.

DAY 5

At Midnight the tributes are awoken to hear a grating noise awakens all the tributes, and they watch in amazement as one of the walls along their wedge rises, leaving two districts paired. The remaining wall turns transparent, allowing **Ronald Key and Atlanshi Bleumoon** to get a good look at each other, caught likewise in district seven and six. Neither of them make a move to harm each other. **Kimberly Merril**, sheltering in district one, notices that the thirteenth wedge stays trapped in between two very opaque walls. There are no deaths of tributes on day 5.

DAY 6

At about midnight, the careers; sheltering in the district 11/12 wedge, are awoken by yelling as **Rhyland Bravo** looms over Heathcliffe Sarutobi, sword in hand. Rhyland appears to be speaking to himself, and makes fearsome motions with his weapon. Khaleesi Daren, the last remaining girl of the careers, chooses a sedation dart and blows it straight into Rhylands neck. Almost immediately, the large intimidating career is asleep, and the remaining careers are able to entrap him in a net from his own pack, setting his sword and pack far away from his reach. Heathcliffe and Khaleesi are reluctant to kill him just yet as they will need a strong force to take out Irvine. Later, at around six, both awaken to find the net empty, half of their supplies gone, and the career alliance down to two. No deaths on day six.

DAY 7

**Irvine**, antsy for more blood, rampages across district six, wanting a kill. He comes across **Atlanshi Bleumoon** and sets a record for the fastest strangling ever to be completed in the hunger games. The kill list clicks up once more, leaving only nine left in the games after a week. Later the same day, **Ronald Key runs into Benedict Wirespark** as he enters district three, and the two strike up a temporary alliance for the good of their two pelts. The two of them decide to move into the district five/six wedge and narrowly miss a seemingly more insane **Irvine** sprinting through the door into the cornucopia room. Barely ten minutes after the pictures show in the sky, **Rhyland Bravo comes across Kimberly Merril**. Suave and handsome, he manages to strike up a replacement alliance "until insane Irvine" is dead. They decide to actively hunt the boy tomorrow.** Ronald Key **and** Benedict Wirespark** decide to set a trap over four of the doors (2, 5, 9 & 12) to try and catch Irvine. There are no more deaths on day seven.

DAY 8

Early the next morning, the traps are set, and luck have it, **Irvine Donald** tries to enter the district 11/12 wedge by district twelve's door. He is electrocuted, but lightly, and still is able to see the two young boys as they hide behind a bush. He runs towards them, slowly dying from the charge. He manages to stab **Benedict** twice in the stomach before he goes still and his body is removed from the arena. **Ronald attempts to save Benedict,** but finally is forced to leave the boy behind as **Feniah Ash** from seven enters district twelve. The girl doesn't notice either as she hikes the two miles to the edge of the wedge, and **Ronald** regretfully glances at **Benedict's** still body before he ducks out of the door and heads towards a different district. But Benedict is not quite dead yet. Sponsors have quite liked his performance with the net traps, and his mentors have just enough points to send him capitol grade medicine. **After seeing Irvine in the sky, Kimberly and Rhyland break their alliance.**

DAY 9

The next day, **Ronald Key**, having not heard a cabin or seen Benedict's face in the sky, returns to the arena where his ally was struck the day before. Except for a splotch of dried blood on the rough dirt, there is no sign of the electrical genius. Ronald decides to hunt around district 11/12 to find him, when in the process he runs across **Feniah Ash**. Ronald opens his mouth to offer an alliance, but the girl strikes out at him, and he (being of more physical prowess) is forced to kill her as she will not listen. This is the second time Ronald has killed (if you don't count Irvine), and it seemingly strikes him harder than before. There are no other deaths on Day 9.

DAY 10

Working together, **Heathcliffe and Khaleesi** finally track down another tribute,** Kimberly Merril**. Amazingly, the redhead gets away with few wounds, infuriating both. In making camp for the day, **Heathcliffe** struggles with the fact that there are only seven people left in the game, and as a rash decision, waits until **Khaleesi is asleep**. He slits her neck and moves to the edge of the arena as **Khaleesi's** body is retrieved. The canon wakes Irina Morgan, who has kept a relatively low profile in the games. She worries about her location, and moves into the mystery 13th door, which has morphed into a sunny meadow with long grass perfect for hiding. There are no other deaths on day ten.

DAY 11

On day eleven, one tribute is awoken to hear terrible screaming seemingly coming from the 13th door. **Rhyland**, transfixed, appears from his camp in the cornucopia to watch as **Irina Morgan** is torn to shreds by the same mutt that murdered Lucy Forsythe on day two. Subdued, Rhyland decides to wait out the day in his comfortable copse, and watch as all of the tributes shift rooms yet again. He watches as H**eathcliffe Sarutobi** ventures into the 5/6 wedge, and as **Kimberly Merril** heads back into the 1/2 area. **Ronald Key** darts into the 9/10 room, while **Benedict Wirespark** heads into district 3/4. Seeing an easy kill in the recovering geek, Rhyland waits an hour for the fun of it and heads into his home district. Just as he does, the gamemaker's clock hits midnight and all of the tributes watch as every single one of the transparent barriers disappear, creating a huge ring shaped arena. Rhyland, remembering the huge black mutt that killed Irina, panics and runs back towards the cornucopia room to find the doors gone. The majority of his supplies are gone. In a crazed rage, **Rhyland** stumbles over still-healing **Benedict**, and brutally snaps his neck as he is sleeping. This is the end of day 11.

DAY 12

There are no deaths on Day 12. Both** Rhyland and Heathcliffe** actively search for tributes, though the latter isn't as enthusiastic about it. **Ronald Key and Kimberly Merril**, both surprised that they are even close to the final four, decide to stay put in their rough territory. All tributes, especially Rhyland Bravo are running low on supplies. It is clear the games must end soon. In the late afternoon, trumpets blare and announce a feast in the golden meadow where Rhyland saw Irina die. All of the other tributes, having not seen the gruesome death, immediately decide to go. All camp on the edges of district twelve's wedge, or district one's wedge. Rhyland reluctantly follows.

DAY 13

A golden table rises in the center of the meadow at dawn the next day. On it sits two bags of food. It is clear there are only meant to be two survivors of Day 13. **Rhyland**, having not eaten in two days, decides that if he grabs food first, he's likely to get away from the mutt. He is wrong. About fifteen feet away from the table, the mutt appears from the grass and smacks him to the ground, breaking his spine and neck with a brutal snap. The canon fires, but the mutt continues to mutilate the body. **Heathcliffe**, bile rising in the back of his throat, decides to use this opportunity to snatch the bigger backpack and get the hell out of there. **Ronald and Kimberly** come next to the table, the latter arriving seconds before. **Ronald,** knowing that his chances were practically zero if he let her get away, gets a short blast of speed and knocks the redhead to the ground, ending her life quickly with a knife to her neck. There are only two tributes left in the games at this point.

DAY 14

Both tributes seemingly decide take a day off to rest and eat. This infuriates the game makers by mid-morning. Two weeks is about the timespan they like for the games to be over. So using this plan, they duplicate the big black mutt from the mystery district and program them to give each boy several wounds to drive them together. This plan works, and both boys are severely harmed by the time they meet in the same golden meadow. Heathcliffe, seeing what the gamemakers want them to do immediately, has the upper hand, and disarms the dying **Ronald**. Feeling a sharp sense of pity, **Heathcliffe** hesitates for a minute, and **Ronald** quickly dislodges the older and bigger boy in search of his knife. Unfortunately, it is simply too far away and **Heathcliffe** brings his small hand-held scythe down on Ronald's skull before he can reach it. Heathcliffe Sarutobi is crowned victor of the 25th annual hunger games, bringing honor to the Sarutobi clan yet again.

**I hope that wasn't too disappointing!**

**Again, very sorry, but congratulations to Oxenstierna D Yuki-Rin! Great character.**

**Sp**


End file.
